


it's always better when we're together

by savourymuffins, vikitty



Category: Miranda (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 101,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savourymuffins/pseuds/savourymuffins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikitty/pseuds/vikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after the events of Series 3. Miranda has fled to Scotland without so much as a goodbye, leaving Gary, Mike, and the gang behind to wonder what her answer to the proposals would have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at the train station

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so strap yourselves in because this is going to be a long one. savourymuffins (Becca) and I have been RPing as Miranda and Gary respectively since February and this epic piece of fiction is the fruits of our labour. Seriously, I'm going to guesstimate the final word count at like 100k or something ridiculous.
> 
> Because this fic was originally written back and forth, the POV will switch between Miranda (written by me) and Gary (written by Becca) every few paragraphs. Hopefully it's not too confusing. We'll see how this goes!
> 
> \--
> 
> Hi, Becca here! There's quite a bit of RPing that happened outside of the prose parts, too! We've compiled it on its own tumblr for your convenience. Some of it is plot-related, but it's mostly extra angst and flirting. If there are any conversations that take place before a chapter, it'll be linked in the notes!
> 
> [Chapter 1 Extras](http://bettertogetherextras.tumblr.com/tagged/001/chrono)

Gary looked down at his ticket and checked his watch for what could have been the hundredth time.  His train didn’t leave for another hour. He fidgeted uncomfortably on the bench.  A conductor had asked him to stop pacing up and down the terminal earlier, because he was upsetting the other passengers. God, if he was this antsy now, how on earth was he going to survive a fourteen hour train ride?  He still hadn’t figured out what he was going to say to her. How was he even going to find her once he got there?  A train slowed to a stop in front of him, and he thought he caught a short brown bob out of the corner of his eye.  Wishful thinking.

After making sure she had all of her luggage straight, Miranda followed the rest of the crowd off the train. It felt strangely good to be home, even if she’d had enough of train stations to last her the rest of her life. 

Pulling her suitcase after her, she pulled her mobile out of her bag and rang Stevie. It rang once, twice, a third time, and then — “It’s Stevie, leave a message!” and Miranda growled in frustration into her phone. “Let your phone run out of battery again, have we?” she huffed. Brilliant. Stevie was her lift home. 

She could call her mum, but she was hoping to avoid that. And she wasn’t about to call Gary — he didn’t know she was coming home, and she wanted to get at least a few hours to put together what she was going to say to him. Tilly? Miranda’s thumb hovered over the Send button. Was she really that desperate?

She bumped into someone and mumbled an apology, her eyes still glued to her phone. Okay, maybe this was a bit of a safety hazard around open rails, and she reluctantly lowered her phone from her face and slid it back into her pocket.

Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, Gary stood up and began to pace again.  He didn’t care what the conductor or anyone else thought at this point, he needed to do  _something_.  His eyes were focused on the ground in front of him, but he looked up when a pack of teenagers nearly knocked him over.  

And there she was, just a few meters in front of him, looking down at her mobile.

His feet were frozen in place.

He hadn’t prepared for this.

Miranda finally relinquished her phone, at least until she could call for a taxi and head back to her flat. She’d text Stevie on the way and let her miniature friend know that she’d arrived safely.

She reached for her suitcase’s handle, looked up to move forward, and stilled when she saw him.

Oh, brilliant.

_Brilliant._ _Well, this is just deja-vu, now isn’t it? Weren’t we here, in this exact spot, a week ago?_

She blinked. He was still there. And then she realized she was just standing there blinking at him like an owl, and decided, words might work in this scenario.

"What are you doing here?"

Her voice sounded a smidge more accusatory than was probably necessary, but she’d been crammed into a seat for more than half a day and had been hoping for tea and sympathy with Stevie. Not a possible re-hashing of her muddled-up relationship with Gary.

“I… uh…  I was…”  _Damn it.  Speak like a normal person._ “I was coming to… get some things.  For the restaurant.  At… the train… station, what are  _you_ doing here?” Maybe if he turned the tables quickly enough she wouldn’t question his excuse.

Right, then, at least she didn’t have to worry about having any sort of talk with him about their relationship — he could barely speak. 

"Just got back from Wick. Lovely town, lots of… history. And fresh air. Um, bit of a long trek, wouldn’t recommend it. If that’s where you’re headed, anyway," she added, nodding at his bag.

He’d been about to go find her. He’d gone after her.  _Why couldn’t he just tell me that?_ she thought, frustrated.

“Ah, no, I don’t think I’d need to go there just now.  You said there’s lots of geese, anyways,” he shuddered.  Gesturing towards her suitcase, he said, “Do you need help?  I could give you a ride home.” He glanced around at the crowd.  ”You didn’t cut anyone’s headphones this time, did you?”

She hesitated, her grip reflexively tightening around the handle of her suitcase. When confronted with a difficult situation, the choice between fight or flight always seemed easy. Normally, Miranda went for flight. (Which was why she’d spent a week in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a stiff neck and a lighter bank account to show for it) but she couldn’t do that again. She wouldn’t.

Stevie had been right, after all. She couldn’t keep avoiding him. And would twenty minutes in an enclosed space with him really be so bad?

Most definitely, yes, especially since the elephant in the room would be riding in the backseat. But he’d come to her rescue, once again, and for that she managed to smile a little at him before nodding.

"Yeah, that’d be great. Stevie was supposed to meet me, but…"

She was already composing a frantic text message to Stevie in her head.

He stepped forward, and reached to take her suitcase.  ”I’ve got it,” he said softly.  Their hands brushed against each other, and he pulled his hand back instinctively.  ”Uh, sorry,” he mumbled.  What was becoming of him, honestly.

All it took was a touch of their hands and she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, apologize for leaving, swear to never do it again. But she’d told herself she had to be firm, that they had to sort all of this out before she could even let herself entertain the thought of another snogfest like they one they’d had the last time he rescued her from the train station.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice how close their hands were as they walked side by side to his car.

“So,” Gary said as he lifted her suitcase into the car.  ”Just straight back to your flat?”  It was getting a bit easier to speak to her, the longer they were together, but he was still feeling jittery. “Or, did you want to come to the restaurant?  Maybe have some coffee… or I could fix you something to eat.  I’m sure you’re hungry, train food is terrible…” He bit his lip to keep himself from rambling any longer, and looked at her expectantly.

Miranda hesitated again, and god why did she keep having to catch herself around him? Why was it somehow worse than before when it wasn’t an issue? But the tension between them was tangible, electric, and she felt that if she stayed still too long, it would choke her. So instead she shouldered her bag and went around to the passenger side of his car and opened the door.

"Um, just back to the flat. I should say hi to Stevie and I think I might just… have a nap. I didn’t sleep well on the train," she explained. Right, that bit was actually true.

“Oh, sure, makes sense,” he replied, nodding.  He slid into the driver’s seat.  The car was eerily silent as he pulled out into traffic.  He fixed his eyes directly on the road ahead.  Attempting to break the silence, he flipped on the radio.  
 __  
Wake up, we both need to wake up  
 _Maybe if we face up to this_  
 _We can make it through this_  
  
“And that’s enough of that,” he said, quickly turning the radio back off.

Miranda fiddled with one of the fobs on her mobile as they drove; the silence was unbearable but she had no idea what to say. “Sorry I ran out after your proposal and hopped a train to Scotland”? “Sorry I never called for a week”? “Sorry I even thought I could pretend that I didn’t love you for more than five minutes”?

Everything had been so much simpler before she’d blurted out that she loved him at the restaurant opening. Then again, if she hadn’t, she and Gary never would have kissed, he never would have told her how he felt…

But it wasn’t enough. Gary wasn’t just another boyfriend. He was her best friend, and he came with fifteen years of baggage that they’d been through — together. Unless he was ready, they couldn’t be together. It was as simple as that. And she knew she had to tell him, like she’d told Stevie the night before.

Speaking of Stevie…

She opened her phone and read her best friend’s text message.

"Oh, Sheila — sorry, one of the kittens — is ill. That’s why Stevie wasn’t there. Well, good to know she didn’t just up and forget about me," Miranda said, aware she was babbling.

After what felt like hours of awkward, excruciating silence, Gary found himself clunking Miranda’s suitcase up the steps to her flat.  When they reached the top of the steps, he leaned her suitcase against the wall. “So, uh, here we are then.”  He looked down at ground.  ”I’m glad you’re back.”

Miranda smiled shyly at him as she rummaged around in her purse for the keys to her flat. She found them, and slid the key into the lock. With her hand on the latch, she was about to open the door, when, without thinking:

“Do you want to come in for a mo? Um, we should probably… talk. Unless you’ve got to get to work or something. It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the lift home, by the way…”

“Yeah, no problem, I’d…”  _I’d do anything for you._ “I mean, um, sure, I can come in for a minute,” he gestured towards the door, smiling at her just a bit, despite himself.  ”After you.”

Miranda pushed open the door to her flat, finding it as tidy as it had been when she left; obviously Stevie had been in to check on it while she was away. She set her suitcase down by the bedroom door — planning to put off unpacking for as long as she could.

She knew what she had to say, what she wanted to say, what she promised herself she would.

She sat down on the sofa and made room for him, nervous but determined.

Gary sat down on the sofa next to her, pressing his hands down flat on the cushions on either side of him.  He had to been scrambling to collect his thoughts, ever since he had first spotted her at the station, but they still hadn’t fully formed in his head.  ”So…” he said, grasping about for  _something_  to say.  ”Wick, huh?”  

Miranda nodded, hands clasped in her lap; her fingers itched to reach for his, to feel the comfort of his hand wrapped around hers. Nothing seemed so frightening anymore when they touched, but at the same time what it represented was terrifying. She knew it was that fear that stopped him from being ready, from telling her how he truly felt.

"It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I thought it would be a chance to sort out my thoughts, to have time to myself, to figure out what I wanted. I thought I needed an adventure. Instead all I could think about was how much I missed everyone."

How much I missed you, she wanted to say, but she continued:

"I know it doesn’t sound true, but I didn’t leave because of you. There were a lot of reasons. And… I didn’t come back because of you, either. Although I’m getting the feeling you were going to try and find me anyway," she guessed.

Gary shifted just slightly closer to her.  ”Yeah, uh…” he cleared his throat, “I just…” closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, he continued,  ”I was  _so afraid_  that you weren’t coming back, and…” he reached over and lightly touched her clasped hands, even just holding her hand seemed like too much at this moment, “I just couldn’t bear to go another day without seeing you.”

His hand on hers made her heart beat faster for just a moment, steeling herself for what came next.

"I missed you so much. And I know you’re scared of what this means. I am, too. There’s so much to deal with, we’ve got so much history together. And you’re my best friend — I wouldn’t want to lose you if things ended badly between us. But it’s worth the risk, because I love you,” she said quietly, looking up at him,

"But…"

She really, really hated that there was a but.

"I need you to be in this with me, all in. Together. And until you’re ready, until you’re completely sure that this is what you want…" She felt her voice begin to break, and she cleared her throat slightly, because god, it felt like they’d just finally found one another and she was pulling away again. "Until you’re sure, then I can’t be with you."

How was it that only a week ago, they’d been sitting on this same sofa, his hands in her hair and hers clutching to him like she’d finally found her way home, which she really had, and now everything was completely upended?

He took his hand back from hers and placed it in his lap.  ”I know, I know,” he said.   _God, why couldn’t he just say it?_   He tried to form the words in his mouth, but they stalled on the tip of his tongue every time.   “I’ve never…  I…  You deserve so much more than me, Miranda.  I can’t…”

When he moved his hand away, and the last physical connection between them was gone, she felt an ache in her heart she couldn’t explain.

"I don’t care about who or what else may be out there, Gary. I want  _you,_  I always have. I don’t need a proposal, I never did. I just… wanted you to tell me. But you asked me to be patient, and I will be. You’re worth the wait.”

She wished patience was one of her stronger points, because now that she knew what it felt like to kiss him, to be held by him, she wanted that feeling all the time, and she was putting a stop to it completely instead. It would be so easy to give in, but she couldn’t do that to herself. She’d waited too long and had been far too patient with both him and herself.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, earnestly.  He peered over at her, her hair still askew from sleeping on the train.  He reached out to tuck a stray piece behind her ear, but stopped his hand midway.   _Not the time._ But now, his hand was just hanging in midair.  Not knowing what else to do, he patted her firmly on the shoulder. _  
_

Feeling awkward now, he stood up quickly.  ”So, I should, uh, probably… go.”

His hand on her shoulder was warm and gentle, and too brief, because the next moment he was rising to his feet and walking to the door and she was scrambling to get up and follow him to see him out.

At the door, she held it open and watched him walk away, the only thing she could manage to say being a soft “bye”.

She let the door close and let out the breath she’d been holding in since he first found her at the station.

Well, not a total disaster. 

But still pretty awful on the scale of things.

She pulled her mobile from her bag and went into the bedroom to duvet cocoon and call Stevie.


	2. culinary therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene takes place immediately following a scene where Miranda broke up with Mike properly, thus ending the Miracle ship. If I get permission from the lovely lady who wrote with me, I'll include it, but in the meantime, onward!
> 
> [Chapter 2 Extras](http://bettertogetherextras.tumblr.com/tagged/002/chrono)

After Mike left, Miranda sat on the sofa, shellshocked. She couldn’t believe she’d done it. She’d watched as his heart had broken right there, and she’d been powerless to do anything to stop it. The only thing that would heal his broken heart was something she couldn’t give him, and so he’d left damaged and she had quickly descended into an ugly pit of self-loathing.

Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and her dinner plans were obviously scuppered. A quick look around the kitchen revealed she really needed to go buy food, but she honestly couldn’t be bothered at the moment.

Instead she wiped the tears from her cheeks, pulled a sweater on over top of her dress, and grabbed her purse from the kitchen table before leaving the flat. The shop was quiet and dark, and tidy thanks to Stevie’s militant tidying regime. (There was a schedule taped up under the counter, brilliant.)

Before she could really give it a second thought, she was pushing open the door to the restaurant and walking over to the bar. She slid onto one of the stools as gracefully as she could manage and reached for a menu, flipping it to the list of desserts. It was definitely a dessert-for-dinner kind of night.

Gary struggled with an arm full of plates and utensils, trying to make it back to the kitchen without shattering them all over the floor.  One of his waiters had called in sick  _again_ and damn it, he really missed Clive.  He finally made it behind the bar, dumped everything into the dish bin, and looked up to find himself face to face with Miranda.  She was studying the menu more intensely than usual, especially for someone who practically had it memorized.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “Weren’t you supposed to be going out with Mike tonight?”

Miranda peered up at him over the edge of the menu.

"So, I think I’ll have the pavlova. Or maybe the cheesecake. No, wait, I’m going to do something really outrageous and get both," she decided, pointedly ignoring the question for as long as she could manage.

A whole ten seconds later, she sighed and lowered the menu down.

"Um, we didn’t make it quite that far. I broke up with him. And this time I actually broke up with him. It was horrible," she told him, still miserable. "So my plan is just to keep eating dessert until I fall into a sugar-induced coma. Promise me you’ll take me off life support should it come to that."

“Anything you say,” he said, “Pavlova and cheescake coming right up,” he disappeared into the kitchen, and emerged a few moments later with larger-than-average slices of both.  He placed both plates in front of her.  ”Let me know if you want anything else, even if it’s not on the menu.  I can probably manage it.” 

He made a quick scan of the dining room.  No one was visibly upset or trying to flag him down, so he looked back at Miranda.  ”Do you want to talk about it, or…? Well, probably not.  But,” he looked her in the eyes.  ”I’m here.”

Miranda took the fork he offered her and took a bite of pavlova first. Yep, definitely what the doctor ordered for a case of a broken heart.

"It’s just unlucky, isn’t it? I finally find, as my mother would put it, the perfect man. Gorgeous, adores me, head over heels in love with me despite my — again, her words — _many_  flaws. That sort of thing doesn’t just waltz into the shop everyday,” she said with a resigned sigh, and then shook her head and reached for the cheesecake.

"But, um, it’s one-sided. That’s why I had to end it," she continued. The plate in front of her seemed to swim for a moment, and she quickly wiped her eyes before taking another bite. "Like I said: I’m just unlucky."

_Unlucky._   The word stung in his ears.  It was true, though. She loved the one man who couldn’t give her what she wanted.  It’s why he sometimes tried to push her away, because she deserved so much more than what he felt he could give.

 He played the words he knew she wanted to hear on his tongue.  He so desperately wanted to make her happy.  But he still couldn’t say them.  Would she even believe it, if he said it now?  Or would she always doubt.  Always wonder if he truly meant them, or if he was just saying what she wanted to hear.

Spotting his box of seasonal decorations in the corner of his eye, Gary had an idea.  He rummaged through it, and quickly found what he was looking for.  Sliding onto the stool next to her, he presented her with a small plastic four-leaf clover.  ”Maybe this will help?” he suggested, smiling shyly at her.

Miranda couldn’t help but smile sadly back at him, taking the clover from him and twirling the stem absently between her fingers for a moment.

"I think I need a whole field of clover, knowing me. Except there are always bees in clover, and you know I’m scared of bees," she reminded him, and as she watched the four leaves spin slowly in a circle she remembered the time she’d gotten a bee trapped in her hair while she and Gary had been trying to find time alone.

She’d almost kissed him then, had felt his hair in her fingers, had felt his breath against her lips, but fate had intervened in the form of Tilly and her mum.

Fate always seemed to be buggering things up for them. Miranda had never been the bitter or cynical type before — in fact she’d always been the opposite in her childlike enthusiasm and wonder for everything. But she was starting to wonder if something in her had changed lately. The reality that you can’t always have what you want, even if you wish for it every night.

She tucked the tiny clover safely into the pocket of her sweater. “Thanks,” she said quietly, before stabbing her cheesecake with her fork once more.

“Hey,” he said, “I know this is cliche, but things will get better.”  He leaned over and bumped her shoulder gently with his.  ”I promise.”

"Holding you to that, you know," she managed to reply, relishing the feel of his arm against hers for a moment. Impulsively, she turned her head and pecked him on the cheek, just the quickest of kisses before she lost her nerve.

"Thanks, though," she said softly. "For the food, of course. And for listening. I know this probably isn’t the easiest thing… to talk about."

His cheek was on fire where her lips had brushed against it.  He lifted his hand to the spot, then dropped it quickly.   “Any time,” he said.  ”I…” he paused, not sure what to say next, but it didn’t matter.  He was interrupted by a customer complaining loudly behind him.  ”Sorry, I’ve got to handle this, we’re down a waiter tonight,” he said.  Without even thinking, he placed his hand on her lower back as he slipped off the stool.


	3. first date

Gary took the steps up to Miranda’s flat two at a time, carrying their old standby, pepperoni, sausage, and onion pizza.  He took a deep breath and rapped on her door.  He wondered for a moment if she actually would be cocooned in plastic wrap like she had mentioned earlier.

Part of her was actually surprised to hear him at the door to her flat; it was pretty late and she hadn’t entirely been sure he’d actually been serious. 

She practically flew across the kitchen, excited for pizza but as always more excited just to see him. Things had been slightly strained between them since she returned from her trip, and last night hadn’t been her finest hour as she’d finished two desserts in front of him.

She opened the door and tried her best to sound nonchalant.

"Just like old times, yeah?"

“Just like old times,” he repeated, smiling at her.  He stepped past her into the flat and went to set the pizza down on her table.  They were both strangely quiet for a few moments, and he cast about for something to say.  ”Sooo…” he drew the word out long.  ”What do you want to do?”

"God, that smells heavenly," she couldn’t help but comment, and reached out to open the box, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the fact that he was standing close to her, maybe it was because they’d spent the last hour sending one another flirty text messages until her phone’s battery had almost died. Maybe it had something to do with how, back in uni, the Saturday tradition of him showing up at her door with pizza and homework had been the start of multiple fantasies.

She drew her hand away from the pizza and instead turned towards him, quickly (before she could think) closing the distance separating them until her lips touched his.

Gary’s eyes widened with shock as her lips pressed against his.  But then, all at once, her scent and the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips enveloped him.  He closed his eyes and cupped her face in his hands, drawing out the kiss for as long as he could. 

Oh, she’d missed this so much. She hadn’t kissed him since that afternoon at the restaurant when everything had gone awry, and it all came flooding back in a rush of sensation and emotion. Her fingers gripped the front of his shirt as she let herself get completely swept away by all of it.

Her hands were shaking slightly when she pulled her face away from his for a moment. “Sorry,” she murmured quietly, looking up at him from under her lashes, feeling her cheeks warm. “Actually, not really that sorry.”

Gary smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead.  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in tightly to him and nestled his face into her hair.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you again?”

When he held her, she felt the strength in her give way and leaned into him, hiding her happy smile against his shoulder. freeing his shirt from her grasp and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Given how long we’ve been waiting, I think we’re well beyond needing to ask permission, don’t you think?"

“Fair enough,” he said. Her breath on his shoulder felt warm and he kissed the top of her head. He trailed tiny, soft kisses down her cheek as he made his way back to her lips.  

She wondered how she’d been able to go a whole week without this, wondered what had possessed her to run away to Scotland, a truly irrational thing to doubt given everything she’d been through, but when he was kissing her none of it seemed to matter. All of the drama, the fear, the warring emotions in her head and her heart seemed to disappear when he kissed her.

Maybe they could just stay like this forever and never have to think about all of the uncertainty still between them.

Her hand slid into his hair, pulling his head down towards hers to deepen the kiss, her lips parting against his and a sigh slipping past them.

The kiss probably didn’t even last a minute, but for Gary, it could have been hours, days.  His fingers brushed along her cheeks as they finally parted.

“The pizza’s probably getting cold, yeah?”

Oh, right. The pizza. She’d completely forgotten about it, but then she remembered that was why he’d come over in the first place. She reluctantly released him and picked the box up from the kitchen table, before impulsively grabbing his hand and leading him over to the sofa.

As they settled down with a slice each, she curled up against the cushions, her body turned towards him.

"So, how’s the restaurant doing?" she asked with a grin. "Things looked pretty busy when I stopped in last night — which, by the way, I should apologize for.  _Nobody_  needs to see me practically inhale two desserts in fifteen minutes.”

He smiled at her.  ”Oh, don’t worry.  Understandable, given the circumstances.  But yeah, business is good.  Can’t seem to find a waiter that doesn’t call off all the time, but I’ll manage…” he trailed off.

He wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened.  She had said the other night that they couldn’t be together until… but then she had kissed him.  And now they were sitting on the couch, eating pizza and chatting like normal.  Had he just imagined it?  He lifted his hand to his mouth and touched his lip absently.

Miranda picked at her pizza as she listened to him talk; their conversations always flowed so easily, he had this uncanny ability to anticipate her questions or finish her sentence. She supposed that was what being friends for so long had done to them.

But there was still one question that she didn’t even know the answer to herself: why had she kissed him?  _Come on, Miranda, you were supposed to last longer than a week_ , she chided herself.

When they both lapsed into silence for a moment, she steeled her resolve.

"Look, Gary, I never got to properly apologize for taking off that night," she began. "I know I was confused and scared and in a mad panic, but I shouldn’t have gone. Not without giving you an explanation." She thought of the long train ride to Scotland, how she’d composed two dozen text messages to him to try and tell him, but deleted each one in a fit of frustration.

"The truth is, though, I’m still confused about what… we are. But one thing that’s never been confusing at all is that… I’m absolutely miserable when we’re not around one another. Whether it’s friends or more than that. And I-I know I said I needed space, but it’s not what I _want_ , if that makes sense. If any of this makes sense, which it probably doesn’t. Right.” She lowered her eyes back down to her pizza.

He scooted closer to her and tentatively placed a hand on her knee.  ”No, it does make sense.  I’m confused, too.  I mean, you’re amazing, and my best friend, it’s just… I’ve never dated anyone for more than a few weeks, and I’ve never said…”  he took his hand from her and leaned over, burying his face in his hands.  

“Sorry, now I’m rambling.  It’s like we’re back at Wilson’s and I can barely put two words together.”

She didn’t like watching him doubt himself; she knew he’d been questioning whether he could meet her needs, whether he could live up to the way she felt about him. But she’d told him that he didn’t need to — that him just being there, with her, was all she needed. And Miranda had promised him she’d be patient. Even if it was one of the most nerve-racking situations she’d ever been in, she would wait. But she couldn’t be without him. He was too important to her and they were only just beginning to figure out how to make this actually work.

She laid her hand on his arm, and did what she did best, had always managed to do in the past — cheer him up.

"Actually, I think we broke our record there of most words put together into a single sentence," she said gently, and pushed on: "Look, this is all highly terrifying and everything, but if you think about it… this would be our first real date, yeah? There’s food, there was snogging…" she couldn’t help but add with a bit of a cheeky grin.

He smiled and looked up at her.  ”Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  He leaned over to her and put his face right up to hers, so that their noses were almost touching.  ”Although, now I’m worried that someone will catch on fire or we’ll get sprayed with water or something,” he winced. “Oh, I think I just jinxed us.”

Miranda reached between them for his hands, taking them both in hers and intertwining their fingers. “Oh, I think I’m willing to take that chance. The sprinkler system in my flat is _excellent_  in case of fire. And a bit of water never bothered me.” 

He smiled at her, squeezing her hands.  Leaning forward, he closed the last inch of space between them and kissed her gently on the lips.

She’d lost count by that point. The first time he’d kissed her, it had been so completely surprising and exciting and new and… perfect. Long overdue, but perfect. Every kiss after that had been just as amazing, and so comfortable. She’d always known that things between them would be heated and passionate, but when she kissed him it was above everything else simply a desire to be close to him, to show him how much she loved him.

The words were, as always, easy for her, but she’d decided not to repeat them, fearing they’d somehow lose their importance if she said it too much, and she didn’t want to place any more pressure on him than he was obviously putting on himself already.

When she kissed him, she found she just couldn’t bring herself to stop.


	4. saturday night

Gary popped the joke shop door open with his foot, his arms full with a box of pancakes and a basket of fruit.  Not much, but the best he could come up with, with a busy kitchen and Stevie constantly texting him.

“I come bearing food,” he called out across the shop.

Miranda instantly looked up at the sound of the door opening and his voice, and broke out into a grin when she saw him laden down with food.

"Stevie talked you into it, yeah? She’s been trying to get me to cook for her all day." She hurried over from behind the counter to take the basket from him. "Come on, I’ll let you in," she offered, already heading up the stairs to the flat.

Gary followed her up the steps.  ”You don’t seem in too bad of shape, considering you had a bit to drink last night, too.”  He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good idea to bring it up, but the words were out of his mouth already.

Miranda stumbled slightly, tripping on one of the steps on the way up. Luckily (!!!) she managed to keep her footing and the basket of fruit went unspilled, mercifully. She really didn’t want to be chasing fruit down the stairs again.

"Stevie’s a tiny little bit of a person, so she’s a lightweight — despite her protests," Miranda reminded him once she managed to recover. "And my tolerance for anything alcoholic has improved loads since uni," she added with a slight smirk, remembering more than once the crazy parties she and Stevie used to throw at their flat back then.

She pushed open the front door. “Stevie, food’s here!”

Stevie emerged from the bathroom, the hot shower having worked some of it’s magic. She still felt somewhat queasy, but at least she no longer looked like a person who had had one too many drinks the night before. She was tucking in her shirt when Miranda opened the door to the flat, and a wide grin spread across her face. 

“FOOD.” She said eagerly, rushing over to the door and opening it wider to find that Gary had brought a basket of fruit and some pancakes. “You are a god send.” she added, taking the box of pancakes and lifting it to her nose to smell. “See Miranda? This is what NICE people do.” She picked up an apple from the basket and took a bite. “I’d give you a hug but that would be a bit weird wouldn’t it?” she muttered, then shrugged, before walking over to the dining table and sitting.

She didn’t bother using a knife and fork, she was much too hungry for that nonsense. She opted to use her hands, and rolled up one of the pancakes before taking a bite. It was just what she needed. 

Gary chuckled as he watched Stevie dig into the pancakes with both her hands.  ”You’re welcome,” he said, amused.  
  
He took a step to the side, so he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Miranda, their hands just barely brushing.  ”I thought I brought enough so you could have some too, although…” he gestured towards Stevie, who was already on her second pancake, “Maybe we should just leave her to it?”

Miranda laughed, watching as Stevie tore into a third pancake rather like a tiger tears into its prey. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of that, to be honest,” she said, lowering her voice. “Poor thing. I know she feels awful, but it’s really quite funny to watch. Forget what I said about you being like a zombie, she’s even worse I think.” Her voice was teasing as she bumped her shoulder gently against him, and maybe her hand just  _accidentally_ slipped into his as she did. 

No, it was absolutely on purpose.

Stevie had been too preoccupied with her food to even really notice the other two in the room. When she rolled up her fourth pancake however, she realised Miranda was muttering something about a zombie(?) and turned around to face them. She watched them carefully, taking a smaller more tentative bite of the pancake as her mind slowly caught up. She looked over at their hands and her eyes widened. 

“And what is this?” she asked, gesturing to their hands. “Are you two, you know, is this a thing? Are you a thing?” The pitch of her voice had risen to almost a squeal in her excitement.

When Stevie started questioning them, Gary instinctively yanked his hand out of Miranda’s.  But then, realizing what that looked like, he grabbed Miranda’s hand again and gave it a slight squeeze.

“We’re, uh, well…” he looked at Miranda urgently, “I guess you could call it a…”

Miranda was aware that Stevie was watching them intently, and her small friend wouldn’t take ‘I don’t know’ as an answer.

“A bit of a thing, so settle down before you make yourself sick, Stevie,” Miranda pleaded. She really didn’t want to spend her evening looking after her hungover friend. “We’re still figuring it all out, but we’ve um, agreed that it’s worth the risk.” She glanced over at him, unable to hide the smile playing on her lips.

Gary smiled back at her, relaxing a bit.  ”Yeah, what she said,” he nodded towards her.  Looking back over at Stevie, he said, “Can we just… not make a big deal about this just yet?”

Miranda nodded slightly in agreement at Stevie, silently communicating to her friend that it was okay, that she wasn’t upset that they were keeping it quiet for the mo. She wanted things to be comfortable and strong between them before they told everyone the news. And, judging by how the week had gone, it was beginning to feel like how it had been the first time they kissed — exciting, passionate, and the flirting was quite fun, too.

Stevie held up her pinky finger. “I promise I won’t breathe a word to anyone, but remind me tomorrow when I’m actually paying attention, because right now I just want more pancakes.” And with that, she scooped up the last one in the box without even a second glance at Miranda. Rude.

Miranda turned back to Gary, still holding his hand. “So, um, walk with you back to work?” she offered. “I know you’re busy, so I don’t want to keep you.”  _Not quite true,_ she thought.  _Forever sounds pretty good right about now._

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said.  Waving goodbye to Stevie, he slipped out the door, Miranda following close behind.  They still held hands as they walked down the steps, Gary going first and holding his arm behind his back, and their fingers woven tightly together.  It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was mostly focused on how warm her hand felt in his.  When they reached the bottom of the steps, he placed a soft peck on her cheekbone.

The shop was quiet without any customers lingering about as they often did, and Miranda was glad nobody was around to see her flush pink when he kissed her. (Really, was she ever going to get over that? Probably not. Maybe after repeated exposure to it. Possible experiment?)

So it was without any guilt that she followed him right out the door, giggling a little as she locked the door to the shop behind them. She’d only be a few minutes, but it still felt highly irresponsible and as a result, too much fun.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Gary was relieved to see everything still running smoothly.  He had only been gone 10 minutes, but he had only had the restaurant for a month, and still worried it was going to fall to shambles at any moment.

He turned to Miranda.  ”Thanks for walking me home,” he said, giving her a cheeky smile.  ”Are you going to kiss me goodnight?”

"If you really can’t go without," she said with a sigh, but smiled and leaned in to slowly kiss him, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. She was aware that other people were around them, but she couldn’t resist the feel of his lips against hers.

"So, you should stop by after work if you’re up for it. I’ll make sure Stevie’s gone by then, and I’ll also make sure she leaves us a bottle of wine. I think it’ll be a few days before she gives it another go," she couldn’t help one last joke at Stevie’s expense.

“Sounds good,” he said.  He pressed his lips together, his thoughts fleeting for a moment to the kiss they had just shared.  Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.  He broke out into a grin.  ”You sure it won’t be too late for you?” he asked, “I usually don’t get out of here until half-past eleven, and I know you like to turn in early.”

"I think you’ll find I can be a night owl when necessary, such as when entertaining a gentleman caller," she said. "See you tonight, then." She made no move to let go of him, and instead impulsively kissed him again, softer and more brief than before, but her toes still curled slightly in happiness as she did. Only then did she reluctantly release him and head out the door.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice the coat stand until she’d tripped over it and gone stumbling out the door.

"Meant to go out like that!" she called behind her, then grinned to herself as she hurried back to the shop.

Gary could hardly contain himself for the rest of the evening.  He rushed through closing and ushered his staff out as quickly as possible.   _Out you go, goodnight all, see you tomorrow._

On his way out the door, he spotted a rose in a vase on one of the tables, and he quickly plucked it out.  He checked it over, it didn’t seem to be wilting yet.   _This will do in a pinch._

After locking up, he slipped into the shop and headed up towards her flat.

Wine, check. Wine glasses, check. Candles — not too many, because fire hazard! Oh, yes, she was ready for a bit of woo-ing of her own. She knew staying up so late two nights in a row wasn’t the best idea, but she didn’t care. Friday night had been girls’ night with Stevie, and Saturday night was her first real date night with Gary.

She heard him at her door and hurried across the kitchen to answer it, almost crashing into it in her haste. She forced herself to calm, just for a second, before opening it.

"Oh hello,  _so_  nice of you to stop by,” she greeted him, holding the door open with a grin.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said.  He held out the rose to her. ”It’s just from the restaurant, a bit late for a florist,” he scrunched his face up in embarrasment.  ”You look lovely, as usual.”

Miranda’s heart did that flippy thing it often did around him. Fifteen years and just being close to him still made it beat a little faster. It was hard not to, especially when he looked so gorgeous, and yet he was still so sweet and silly. He was still Gary, even if he was now… well, she wasn’t sure she could call him her boyfriend just yet. Wasn’t sure whether she _should_.

"Thank you, that’s so sweet. Ten woo points to you," she said, smiling as she took the rose from him and then gave him a quick kiss.

Gary grinned at her.  ”Do I get some sort of prize if I save up enough woo points?  Can I redeem them?”

Miranda’s grin was, if possible, even cheekier than his. “Oh, you most certainly can. And I’ll have to come up with something clever as a prize.” She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen so she could put the rose in water.

“I look forward to it,” he said softly as he followed her into the kitchen.  As she got a vase out, Gary sidled up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.  Pressing his face into the curve of her neck, he breathed in deeply. She smelled flowery and familiar.  He kissed her neck softly, then gave her a small, playful nibble in the same spot.

His lips on her neck were enough of a distraction as she set out to fill the small vase with water, but when she felt the gentle nip at her skin, it slipped out of her hands and into the sink, water splashing her hands and arms and the front of her blouse. She didn’t care, because the temperature of her skin had just multiplied by a billion, and her legs were absolutely going to turn to jelly.

He chuckled under his breath as he heard the vase crash into the sink.  ”Sorry,” he murmured into her skin.  He trailed kisses up her neck, gently brushing her hair out of the way as he went.

Her hands moved to cover his on her waist, and she leaned back against his chest, her eyes fluttering closed. She felt the tiny hairs on her neck standing up on end as if she’d been shocked with electricity, and perhaps she had. When she spoke, it was with some difficulty: “You really want that prize, don’t you?” she whispered, unable to stop smiling.

“It just sounded so intriguing,” he whispered into her ear.  He squeezed her a bit tighter and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.  ”You’re irresistible, you know.”

"Irresistible, hm?" she repeated, with a tiny bit of disbelief. She didn’t really think she was anything special, but he obviously did, and really that was all that mattered. His lips grazed her cheek and she boldly turned her head so that they found her mouth instead. She really never wanted to stop kissing him.

He closed his eyes when her lips touched his, sighing softly. Breaking apart for just a moment, he slid his hands to her hips and turned her around to face him.  Going in for another kiss, he slipped his hands up to tangle in her hair.

Miranda’s arms wrapped around his waist, hands splayed against his back, and when he kissed her she held him tighter, taking a half-step towards him until her chest connected with his and her fingers curled into his shirt. She felt his hands in her hair, the gentle pressure of it being wrapped around his fingers as they continued to kiss with a slowly growing urgency.

As their kissing grew more passionate, they travelled partway across the kitchen.  Miranda was now leaning against a clear space of counter, and he had his hands placed on the counter, too, leaning into their kiss.  

After a moment, Gary realized that his hand felt quite warm.  He broke away from their kiss for a moment, and peered behind Miranda . “Oh God,” he said urgently, “My sleeve’s caught on fire.”

Miranda’s lips were still slightly puckered in a kiss when he suddenly jumped away from her, and her eyes widened in horror and panic when she saw that his shirt was beginning to smoke. The romantic candles had definitely made things hot. but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

"Water!" she yelped, making a run for the sink, grabbing the hand that wasn’t on fire and yanking him along with her. They crashed into the counter, her hip smashing painfully against the edge but she ignored it because oh my god, he was on fire.

She hurriedly turned on the tap and shoved his wrist under the stream, watching as the flame quickly sputtered out and the fabric of his nice blue shirt darkened from the water, the sleeve singed and burnt.

The mood properly ruined, she sighed and let go of his arm. “Sorry. Candles. Apparently romance itself is a safety hazard.” She leaned over and blew out the candle, just to be safe.

“Oh, it’s alright,” he said, rolling up his sleeve to check his arm.  ”I didn’t get burnt too badly.”  He continued to let the cold water run over the burn.  Shrugging, he said, “I should have watched where I put my hands.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, unable to hide a grin even though she was still a bit worried about him. (She could only imagine he’d burned himself before being a chef and all, but still - not pleasant.) “Yeah, you were a bit  _hands-on_  there for a bit, hm? Not complaining, though.”

He smiled at her.  Turning the faucet off, he reached for a towel to pat his arm dry.  ”Guess I should take this off, yeah?” he raised his wet arm, “I’m a bit soggy.”  He pulled his shirttails out of his trousers and began unbuttoning his shirt, but he couldn’t resist leaning forward and giving Miranda a quick peck on her forehead.

She blushed slightly, both from the kiss and the fact that he was taking off his shirt because oh, hello, always a nice view thank you very much and thank you so to you. The last time she’d had a partially unclothed Gary in her kitchen was when they’d decided to try sleeping together, and everything had gone absolutely bonkers.

"I’ll go find you something dry to wear," she offered with a smile. "Don’t want you to, um, catch cold." Her eyes flicked downward for just a quick look before she shook her head a little as if to clear it.

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” he said as he finished unbuttoning the shirt.  He started to fold up the shirt to drape over a chair, but then remembered it was ruined, and chucked it into the bin.  He rubbed his upper arms, both from the chill, and from feeling a bit awkward, standing in the middle of her kitchen in just his trousers.

She couldn’t help another quick glance as she left for the bedroom — last look! She rummaged through her dresser until she found a plain blue t-shirt and hurried back out to the kitchen with it.

"Here, you can borrow this one," she said, handing it to him. "If you catch on fire again, we’ll be even. Only, please don’t catch on fire. It’s probably not very good for your health — or my heart." She grinned.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, tugging the shirt over his head.  It was soft and smelled faintly of her. He pressed his lips together and rocked back and forth on his heels.  The mood had shifted so suddenly that he wasn’t quite sure what to do now.  ”I was told there’d be wine?”

"Yes! Wine!" Miranda said a little too quickly, going over and picking up the bottle from the counter where she’d left it. "Stevie brought it over last night, but we ended up just sticking to the bubbly. Although it seems a bit silly to drink champagne on a day other than New Years Eve, doesn’t it?" she said, pulling down two wine glasses from the cupboard. One of the perks of being tall — she could reach everything even from the top shelf.

Gary grabbed the corkscrew from the table and opened the bottle while Miranda was getting the glasses.  As he poured the wine, a yawn escaped from his mouth.  He gave Miranda a guilty smile, “Sorry, not bored, just a bit sleepy.”  It was past midnight now.

Miranda reached for her glass and took a drink. Ooo, Stevie had splurged on the nicer stuff. Not that she was entirely picky about that sort of thing, but her friend absolutely was and for once it had come in handy.

"Yeah? Long day? And I should say thank you again for stopping by earlier for Stevie — though I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her from assaulting you with text messages." She sat down, shaking her head slightly with amusement. "She’s not the greatest patient when she’s feeling ill."

Gary sat down, too, their knees bumping underneath her kitchen table.  ”Oh, I didn’t mind,” he said, tracing his finger around the rim of his glass, “Besides, it gave me an excuse to come see you."

There was that familiar fuzzy feeling again. She thought maybe it was the wine at first, but it couldn’t be. No, it was definitely the way he was looking at her across the table, that look in his eye which, now that she knew what it meant, she always noticed. At least they were no longer on the brink constantly — they could finally just go for it.

"You don’t need an excuse to stop by, Gary. You never did, you nut."

“I guess not,” he said, smiling.  He reached across the table and stroked her hand gently with his fingertips.  ”But, excuse or not, I’m glad I did.”

Miranda left her hand in his as she used her other to take another sip  of wine. “I’m glad you did, too. And that you’re here now.”

Gary smiled serenely at he continued to stroke her hand.  He took a sip of his wine and just let himself enjoy the quiet moment.  His thoughts wandered to various things, from the feel of her skin on his fingers, to the texting they had done the night before, to the kissing that had ended in mild disaster.  The burn on his arm twinged slightly and it snapped him out of his thoughts.  He realized he had been staring directly at Miranda for who-knows-how-long.  ”Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.  That was probably a bit unnerving.”

Miranda shrugged a bit, a smile still on her lips. “I don’t mind. It’s actually quite cute.” She squeezed his hand gently before leaning forward to inspect the reddened mark on his forearm from the burn. “You’ll live, yeah? Would be rather disappointing for things to end after only two dates.”

The slight twinge had turned into a much worse stinging sensation.  Gary bit his lip slightly and tried to keep his expression neutral.  ”I’ve had worse,” he said, scrunching his nose.

“What, worse dates?” she joked. “I’m hoping this isn’t a pattern with you, getting caught on fire. If that’s the case, what have I gotten myself into?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he teased back, “I’m even clumsier than you, I’ve just been hiding it from you all these years.”  He winced, his arm still stinging.

She snorted softly with laughter. “I really doubt that. And you’re an awful liar, your arm is obviously still bothering you!” She felt slightly guilty; it had been her fault for keeping so many open flames around them.

“I’m fine!” he insisted, the pitch of his voice rising defensively.  ”Anyways…” he stammered, trying to change the subject, “Enough about me and my arm, how was your evening?”

Miranda couldn’t help but sigh a little in exasperation; some things never changed — but she wouldn’t want them to. Not wanting to damage his alpha male credibility any further, she dropped it, for the moment anyway.

“I had to take care of Stevie, who is not the best patient. Best friend, yes — well, one of them,” she corrected herself with a smile, “but not best patient. When I got back she’d done a duvet cocoon in my bed and I had to lure her out of the flat with more food.” Miranda rolled her eyes slightly with a bit of annoyance but mostly affection for her vertically-challenged friend.

Gary laughed at the image of Miranda waving a slice of pizza in front of a duvet-wrapped Stevie.  ”I hope she didn’t take the duvet with her,” he said.

"No, we had intense negotiations. And she made it home safely. I then had to deal with mum, who stopped in to criticize absolutely everything, her favourite past-time. I finally kicked her out with just enough time to order dinner and tidy the flat," Miranda sighed, brushing her hair away from her face and having another drink of wine. "She’s still cross that I’m not yet betrothed, no matter how many times I tell her it’s just a dream she has. It’s not mine right now, you know?"

Gary fidgeted in his chair slightly.  The mention of marriage reminded him of his ridiculous proposal.  They had moved past it, but it was still recent enough that he felt a bit ill when he was reminded of it.  Shaking his head to rid it from his mind, he said, “Yeah, me neither.  I mean, someday, sure, but that’s quite a ways off, still.”

Miranda sensed a shift in the atmosphere and quickly realized that once again she’d made things awkward, She downed the rest of her glass while trying to think of a new conversation topic.

"Long, long, long way off. If I’m lucky mum won’t even be around to try and ruin it, either." _Oh god, that’s the same topic! Abort! Abort!_

“Right,” he said.  Miranda looked flustered and Gary worried that he had upset her.  Maybe he should make an exit before things got worse. He yawned again, and pushed his chair out from the table.  ”It’s getting really late, I should probably let you get to sleep…”

Miranda watched him rise from the table and glanced down at her wristwatch — it was almost one in the morning! Time had flown even though they’d done nothing more than talk. Well, and a fair bit of kissing. And the whole fire debacle.

It was either the wine, or the fact that she’d failed to muster up the courage a few nights ago when they’d been texting, but as she got up to walk him to the door, she found herself speaking up: “Gary, wait.”

When he turned back to her, she found herself freezing up momentarily but  quickly recovered. “Stay. Um, you should stay. I mean, it’s late, and…” She took a step towards him, reaching for his hand. “I want you to. I promise no shenanigans,” she added with a slight grin, “only because I’m entirely too exhausted to even try. But it’s late and… it’s late?” 

 _Smooth, Miranda,_  she mentally chided herself.

He smiled at her, letting out a sigh of relief he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in.  He was glad they wouldn’t be ending the night on such an uncomfortable note. _Technically they wouldn’t be ending the night on any note._   Stepping towards her, he took her hand.  ”I’d love to.”

Miranda’s grin widened, her heart feeling light and ridiculously giddy. She lightly gripped his hand in hers, their fingers interlocking so perfectly together. She gave his hand a little tug towards her before she began walking towards the bedroom, well aware that they were taking a small but still important step.

"Um, I’ll just go get changed," she said once she’d turned on the light, going over to her dresser and pulling out her pyjamas. "And remember, I get the left side," she reminded him cheekily, unsure if he’d remember from the last time they’d shared a bed.

As Miranda left the room, Gary had the sudden realization that he hadn’t brought pyjamas.  It wasn’t like he had planned to sleep over when he arrived.  Sleeping in his trousers sounded horrifically uncomfortable.  Ideally he’d just strip down to his pants, but that made him feel a bit strange to, since they hadn’t gotten there… naturally, yet.  But, Miranda would be back any moment and it would be even more strange if he changed in front of her, so he quickly peeled off his shoes and trousers, slipped under the sheets, and waited for her to return.

After changing into her pyjamas (no bra, breast clap be damned) Miranda dashed through the darkened flat and back to her bedroom to find Gary already in bed. In  _her_  bed. And even though they were clothed and nothing naughty was going to happen, it was still making her heart race. She turned off the lights and quickly climbed in next to him.

"Cold bed dance?" she suggested with a grin.

“Cold bed dance,” he agreed, smiling back at her.  He sighed happily when they were done.  He turned on his side, towards her, watching her stare up at the ceiling.  ”Hi,” he said softly.

Miranda gingerly rolled over to face him, and winced when she heard the unmistakable clapping sound. “Sorry, they do that,” she apologized sheepishly, resigned. Plus she had a feeling he wouldn’t buy the duck story again.

“It’s fine,” he said, still grinning like an idiot. He reached out and stroked his fingertips up and down her forearm.

Miranda sighed contently, relaxing against her pillow. There was still a good amount of space between them, but she could feel the heat radiating off of his body and her own seemed to naturally gravitate toward it. As nonchalantly as she could manage, she shifted a bit closer to him.

"This is nice," she said, her voice quiet but happy.

“It is,” he agreed.  Gary could already feel himself starting to drift off, but he wasn’t ready to quite yet.  He scooted forwards a bit and draped his arm over Miranda’s waist.

His arm over her waist was warm and strong, and altogether heavenly. She moved even closer still, tentatively testing the boundaries between them. She let her hand rest on his arm for a moment before she curled it around his back, her face close to his now. She didn’t say anything, but smiled dreamily and fought to stay awake for just a bit longer. She didn’t want to forget how lovely this felt.

He watched as Miranda’s eyes fluttered open and closed.  Their noses were almost touching now, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face.  Leaning in to close the distance between them, he placed a soft, brief kiss on her lips before nuzzling his face into her neck and wrapping his arm around her a little tighter.

With his arms around her and his steady heartbeat against her own, Miranda felt herself quickly being lulled to sleep. She nestled against his chest a bit more and let her eyes finally close.

For the first time in weeks, sleep finally came easily.


	5. well, that escalated quickly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the smut slowly worms its way into the story...

The moment he received Miranda’s text, Gary sprung into action.  He locked up his office, scribbled down some extra closing instructions for his staff, and raced out the door.

 His eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he read the word  _girlfriend._ He hadn’t been expecting it, and it made his head spin.  Anything official-sounding made him feel a bit ill, not because he didn’t care for her, but because he didn’t trust himself.  The more serious it got, the more he could end up hurting her.  And he’d already managed to do that in the fits and starts they’d had in the past.

He ran up the steps towards her flat, and popped the door to her flat open just enough to stick his head in.  He caught a glimpse of her profile, she hadn’t noticed him just yet.  Looking at her, he thought,  _Maybe the word girlfriend isn’t so bad, after all._

“Knock, knock?” he called out cheerfully.

Miranda jumped slightly when she heard his voice; ever since she’d texted him she’d been on edge waiting for a reply. Part of her had wanted to quickly follow it up with a ‘Haha, only joking!’ text, another part of her was hoping he wouldn’t even notice it, and a very small part of her just wanted to to flush herself down a plughole. Why did she have so much trouble with blurting out important things at the most inconvenient times?

So when she saw him step into her flat, she was properly gobsmacked. She’d been joking about the knocking off work bit, after all, but here he was.

"Oh, um, hello!" she began as she began to make her way across the kitchen. "That text, um, you can ignore that, I mean I was…" Her legs seemed to be carrying her of their own volition now, she narrowly avoided crashing into anything on her way to him. "Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do this all day—"

She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

Well, she was certainly full of surprises this evening.  The thought that he should tell her the text was fine flickered briefly across his mind, but it was swept out by the feel of her lips on his.  He sighed softly as his hands found her hips and pulled her even further into the kiss.

All of her worries and fears disappeared when he responded to her kiss with equal passion, and she relaxed into his arms, still gripping his jacket. She was still mentally kicking herself for blurting out the G word so soon, but if he were unhappy about it, surely he wouldn’t be snogging her with such… enthusiasm. She drew back slightly, pressing another, much softer, kiss to his lips before pulling away completely, breathless.

“Definitely the most lovely,” she murmured sweetly, reaching up to gently brush her thumb over his bottom lip, wiping away the lipgloss she’d left there.

When she pulled her hand away, Gary leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers.  He smiled at her, catching his breath and getting his thoughts back into order.  ”So, girlfriend, huh?” he said quietly, almost in a whisper, “I think I like the sound of that.”

Miranda was hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss him again, but she forced herself to focus. “Are you sure? Because I know we said we were going to sort of… ease into it. But we can’t seem to keep our hands off one another, can we?” she joked, indicating his hands on her hips and hers still on his cheek.

He laughed softly.  ”I guess not,” he said, squeezing her hips gently.  He pulled his head back from her, so he could look her in the eyes properly.  ”And yes, I’m sure.”  Taking a deep breath, he continued.  ”I mean, I’m scared, still, definitely.  But I think it’s the good kind of scary?”  He bit his lip and looked at her expectantly.

"Best kind of scary there is," she agreed emphatically. "Quite like the rush you get when watching a scary movie — only with more snogging." She leaned in to punctuate her remark with a quick kiss to his lips. "Mm, but I agree, absolutely terrifying. You’d better hold me," she teased him.

“I think I can manage that,” he said.  He took his hands from hips and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, squeezing as tightly as he could. “Better?” he asked cheekily.

Miranda slid her arms around his waist, and hugged him close, nestling her head into the crook of his neck and sighing happily. “Much better, thank you so to you. 10 more woo points to you, gorgeous boyfriend,” she joked, referencing the other night before she realized she’d just called him her boyfriend. (And gorgeous, but that was hardly new information) How easily it passed her lips. Given things had never been easy between them, it was immensely satisfying to be able to properly label their new relationship.

He kissed the top of her head.  ”Well, I’m just racking these points up left and right, aren’t I?” he joked.  He loved seeing her this happy, and it was still astonishing to him that he was the cause of it.

“I suppose you’d have a lot more if I counted all the sweet things you’ve done for me in the past. But I’m awful at maths, remember?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “And that is why I studied history. Well, that and the cute guy who couldn’t take notes to save his life. You wouldn’t have graduated without me, you know,” she said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe this is actually finally happening,” she said quietly, her voice happy.

“Me neither,” he said, running one of his hands up and down her back, “I keep worrying I’m going to wake up and be…” he trailed off, realizing most endings to that sentence would drudge up bad memories.  ”…Not with you.”

Fifteen years. She wasn’t sure how long it had been for him, but she’d fancied him pretty much from the start. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to make sure that this chance didn’t pass them by. They’d both waited too long for one another, had spent too long being ships in the night passing one another by.

"I’m not going anywhere," she reassured him gently, kissing him on the cheek, her lips pressed softly against his skin. "Although if you’d like me to pinch you every half hour just to remind you, that can easily be arranged. And would be rather fun. Well, for me."

“Please don’t,” he said, wincing.  ”I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, but you pinch  _hard.”_ She had pinched him once in uni, after he had said something a bit mean, and he swore he could still feel it on his arm from time to time.

Miranda grinned mischievously. “Oi, I’m as gentle as a lamb. Besides, someone has to keep you in line.” She moved the hand on his back downward to his butt and gave it a playful pinch, laughing.

“Hey!” he shrieked, reaching down to pinch her back.  ”Two can play at this game.”  He was grinning again.

She dissolved into giggles again. “Careful now, you’ll go so high-pitched you’ll attract dogs. Not so alpha-male now, are we?” she teased him.

“I can be alpha-male!” he protested, his voice defensively high-pitched.  Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean… uh… I can be…” He tried to make his face stern and serious.

Miranda shook her head in amusement before wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to her for another kiss. “Works for me,” she murmured just as their lips touched.

His heart started beating faster when their lips touched, and he let out a small moan.  Okay, this was  _definitely_ not a dream, no pinching required.  Stroking her back with one hand, he sneaked the other around to her breast.

His hand on her breast kicked her into high gear, as it were, and Miranda deepened the kiss, her body pressing insistently against his. Oh god, this was like the remote control thing all over again, wasn’t it? Except they were still standing in the middle of her kitchen, and her knees weren’t strong enough for these sorts of shenanigans.

With some difficulty, she managed to form words in between kisses, her fingers still tangling in his hair. “Bedroom?” she suggested helpfully, then realized how it sounded. And just as quickly realized she didn’t even care—she wanted him, had always wanted him, and if that’s how things ended up, then… carry on!

“Yeah,” he mumbled into her mouth. He honestly didn’t care  _where_  they ended up, as long as she was kissing him like that.  He made a staggered step backwards toward her bedroom, a half-hearted attempt at movement.  All he could focus on was her lips, her skin, her, her,  _her._

They were too caught up in kissing (and his wandering hands, naughty!) to pay much attention where they were going; it was rather hazardous moving through her flat with her eyes closed, but she knew roughly whereabouts they were moving.

After almost smashing into the kitchen table (he did trip over one of the chairs, bless) they made it safely to her bedroom, and, still not breaking the kiss except to breathe, over to her bed. She felt the backs of her legs catch against the edge of it and she lost her balance, falling backward onto it, taking him with her because her arms were still tightly wrapped around him.

Her arms released him when they hit the bed, and Gary rolled off to the left, just barely catching himself before he fell off the edge.  He laughed and rolled back towards her.  Cupping her cheek with his hand, he teased, “Dating you is dangerous,” before going in for another kiss.

Miranda grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to her, sighing against his mouth as she felt his warm weight cover her; her hands were still in his hair and then moving down his back, pulling him closer still, until they were completely tangled together. She’d never felt such an intense passion for anyone in her life, not past boyfriends, not even Mike, because yes, she’d had Gary up on a pedestal ever since she’d fallen in love with him, and nobody could compare. He was everything she’d waited for, and now that she had him, she still couldn’t believe it.

But he was there and so was she, and every time he kissed her she felt the temperature of her skin rising and the beat of her heart quickening.

It had been fifteen years since he first wanted to kiss her, and two since he had suggested they sleep together.  All of that build-up was releasing now, manifesting into frenzied kisses and hands all over.  He had already memorized the smell of her hair and the way she hugged; now he wanted to learn the curve of her waist and the feel of her breasts, all the hidden parts he’d only been able to imagine. He wove his fingers into her hair while he slipped his other hand under her blouse.

She had always been this big unanswered question in his life, and he was finally finding the answer.

When he once more returned his attention to her cleavage, she realized that apparently he wasn’t beyond moving this along, either. All very well and good, considering her heart was racing and felt like it might burst from her chest at any moment. Not in a heart-attack sort of way, no, that would rather put a damper on things.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling it up his back to expose the lovely warm skin there, her hands smoothing over it, fingertips following the delicate slope of his spine until they could go no further and she reached between them to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Her hands were warm on his chest as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, flinging it to the side. He was torn between a desperate need to have her immediately, and the desire to make this last forever. Leaning back down, he kissed up and down her neck and collarbone, his teeth occasionally scraping her skin. His hands played at the hem of her blouse, slowly pulling it upward.

His lips and teeth on her skin were distracting her from the fact that he was attempting to remove her blouse, and when she finally caught on she sat up slightly to help him; there was that one terrifying moment where she thought she was stuck with it over her head (a frequent problem) but after a moment it came free and joined his shirt on the floor next to the bed.

He inhaled sharply as her blouse tumbled to the floor.  He had seen her in a bra before, of course.  Miranda was always losing clothing at unfortunate times.  But this was different, this was purposeful, and just for them, and he didn’t need to hide her from Tilly or chase a car down the street.  His fingers grazed the lace of her bra as he placed soft, slow kisses along the top of her breasts.  ”You’re beautiful,” he murmured into her skin.

When he said it, she actually believed him. She may not have had spindly legs or a button nose, and she didn’t want any of that. Because that wasn’t who she was, and she didn’t believe she needed to change for anyone, not even him. And that was the crux of it all, the heart of the matter — Gary was the only person who she truly felt like she could be herself around, for all of her faults and insecurities and weaknesses, he still wanted her. Unconditionally. She didn’t have to change for him.

Her arms gently wrapped around his shoulders, holding him to her, her eyes slowly closing in happiness and pleasure as she revelled in the feel of his soft lips against her skin.  _Have at it, then,_  she thought dreamily, fingers stroking his back.

He closed his eyes when her arms draped around his shoulders.  Her arms on his bare skin was still a new sensation, but it was the same way she hugged him a hundred times before, a mix of natural and new.

His hand trailed down her stomach.  Her skin was soft,  _unbelievably_ soft.  He couldn’t stop running his hands all over it (fortunately he didn’t think she minded.)  He slipped his fingertips underneath her waistband, just for a moment, before deftly unbuttoning them.

Or, well, trying to.  He fumbled the button between his fingers, trying to wrench it free. 

Honestly, if she’d known that they’d be doing this tonight, she would have worn a skirt. She’d probably even have forgone pants, too, just to make things a bit more convenient. Instead the proceedings were paused for a minute so she could reach down to help him with the fasten of her trousers. Her hands were shaking slightly in their urgency, and so were his (she could feel the tremble when her fingers grazed against his).

Once they’d managed to get them over her hips, she kicked them off the rest of the way, a little too happy to be rid of them. And yet they were still wearing too much, she thought with a sneaky grin, reaching between them to do the same with his trousers, her hand only slightly more steady.

His trousers kicked to the floor, Gary pressed himself to her, their bodies lining up like mirror images.  He kissed her cheek, her neck, her lips, while his hand found its way down again, slipping under the last bit of fabric between them, his fingertips finding their place.

She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be touched like that, and she instinctively reached for him, her hand gripping his shoulder and the other clutching the duvet beneath her with equal strength. Her head fell back against her pillow and a moan slipped out of her before she could stifle it.

Her moan energized him and his fingers circled faster and faster.  His eyes were locked on her, feeding off her every reaction.  He ached for her, and watching her just made it stronger.  Whispering her name, he slipped his fingers even farther.

Her fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin. With every swipe of his fingers she felt the heat building, and it really had been too long because it was happening too quickly and she didn’t want it to ever stop. Her hips rocked against his hand, her fingers gripped his hair, and she began to cry out his name with increasing urgency.

His heart stirred when he heard her say his name, and his breath was hot on her neck as he whispered hers back to her.  As his fingers continued to work, he attempted to slip his hand under her back to unhook her bra.  It would have been easier with both hands, of course, but he couldn’t bear to stop.

His mouth on her neck combined with his lovely fingers touching her so intimately and so _perfectly_ was quickly sending her spiralling out of control. She squirmed under him — no, writhed, that was a more erotic way to describe it, she thought absently, and then she couldn’t think of anything else, her mind going blissfully blank. She felt properly debauched, her nails scratching at his naked shoulders and her body beginning to shudder under his.

He pressed himself tighter to her, each tremor jolting through his body as well.  His breathing was ragged as he soaked in every bit of her reaction.  His fingers slowed as she did, giving one final flick before working to remove the last bits of clothing they still had on.

She felt the brush of his fingers against her as he finished undressing her, her skin still tingling and hypersensitive to his touch. When he pressed back against her she managed to open her eyes, grinning slightly up at him as she did. Her fingers slowly released their grip on his back, softly rubbing where she’d dug her nails into him before bringing him back down to her for a kiss.

The kiss was soft, and slow, and sweet, and he smiled serenely at her as he pulled away.  He let out a ragged sigh as he slipped into her, looking into her eyes, his smile growing into a full-out grin.   He started out slowly, gently, one of his hands reaching up to thumb circles on her breast.

As they found a slow rhythm together, she let herself wonder what would have happened if they’d slept together two years ago. Would it have been as nerve-racking and thrilling as this? Most likely not, she decided, and let herself get swept away by it all: the feeling of their bodies colliding in the most pleasurable of ways, the sound of his voice saying her name like  _that,_  the glimpses of lust and affection in his eyes when he looked at her. Her hands swept over his naked back, giving his butt a firm squeeze just because she could and giggling into his kiss, her heart having never felt lighter and the rest of her having never felt so thoroughly adored and wanted.

He almost fell to the side when she grabbed his butt.  He was  _ticklish_ okay, and he wasn’t expecting it.  ”You’re impossible,” he mumbled, burying his face into her neck as he quickened his pace.

Her giggle turned into a moan as things picked up tempo; with his kisses on her neck she was free to carry on, gasping his name softly as she clutched at his back again, feeling his muscles working under her hands. Her toes curled into the bedsheets and then her legs wrapped around him, bringing him as close to her as they’d ever been before, in every sense of the word.

Speeding up had pushed him right up to the edge, quicker than he had anticipated.  He alternated between sloppy kisses along her neck and shoulder and ragged gasps of air.  He was overwhelmed by every sensation, the heat of their bodies and her legs wrapped around him and the sound of her voice.

She could tell he was close, and she was too, having only held on because she absolutely didn’t want this to end. But the look in his eyes, the way he kissed her so desperately, and she knew it had to. (Nothing saying they couldn’t have another go later, right?)

Her last coherent thought was  _well, this escalated quickly,_ and then there was nothing but the incredible release as she came, wrapped tightly around him, his name the only thing she managed to gasp out against his shoulder as she did.

Her release pushed him right over the edge into a freefall.  He shuddered, gasping for air, and feeling like he would melt right into her.  He dropped to his elbows and rested his forehead on her shoulder as he caught his breath, her skin just slightly damp against his. 

She could hear the blood still rushing in her ears as they went still and quiet together, her heart racing. As soon as she regained use of her limbs, she stroked his back, feeling the warmth of his heated skin under her fingertips.

He snuggled into her, his labored breaths becoming even and easier, his eyes drooping half-shut. He could feel her heart beating against his chest.  ”Lovely,” he mumbled with a satisfied smile.

She sighed happily, contently, wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders. She was still completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened, that had  _finally_ happened. Patience had never been one of her strengths, but oh how it had paid off.

“Mm, hello,” she said softly, unable to stop grinning. Forget happy, she was positively  _giddy._

He lifted his head from her shoulder to look her in the eyes.  ”Hello,” he replied cheerily, smiling back at her.  He placed a small peck on her nose.  There was nothing he liked better than seeing her happy, her smile made him feel as light as air.  Combined with what he just experienced, he thought if she let go of him he might float away.

Miranda felt herself blush as she wrinkled her nose playfully when he kissed it. She captured his lips instead in a quick kiss; it wasn’t as passionate as the ones they’d shared earlier, but it still made her heart beat a little faster and the fluttering feeling in her stomach return. 

His eyelids drooped again, and he let out a small yawn despite himself.  ”Mmm, sorry,” he said, scrunching his face up, “You wore me out,” he teased.  He rolled off to her side and draped an arm over her waist, his head resting just above her breast.

"Oh, hush, I did not," she giggled, but hugged him a bit closer to her, sighing at the feel of his bare skin against her own, of his breath, his heartbeat. She’d never felt closer to him, and for a moment she felt the emotion that had been the forefront of everything bubble to the surface.

"Gary, I…" she began, her voice quiet, and then caught herself.  _I love you,_ she wanted to say. Needed to say. It was sitting there on her tongue along with everything else she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t bear the possibility that he wouldn’t respond in kind. And it was such a perfect, lovely moment that she didn’t want to make it uncomfortable. Because really, she’d never been more comfortable with anyone than she was at that moment.

"I’m really happy you’re here," she murmured instead, smiling shyly as her hand moved up and down his back.


	6. lunch

It was just around noon and Miranda’s stomach was, as usually, being rather vocal about the lack of decent food in her flat. She really did need to learn how to cook one of these days, but it was entirely too convenient having a best friend —  _boyfriend!_  — who also happened to be a chef.

Which was why instead of even trying to put something together for lunch, she left her flat and headed downstairs through the shop (avoiding Stevie’s look of annoyance; her tiny friend was running the shop for the day) and next door to the restaurant.

The restaurant was fairly slow for a lunch hour, so Gary took the extra time to straighten up the storage behind the bar.  He was about to pull out his phone to see if Miranda wanted to stop by for lunch, but as he turned around, he saw her enter the restaurant.

“Hey, you,” he said, his face lighting up.

Miranda grinned as she slid onto one of the stools in front of the bar and then leaned over to kiss him hello. “Hello!” she said cheerfully, glad that the restaurant wasn’t too busy. Easier to steal a little time with him that way — at least until Clive showed up to heckle them, as he often did.

He kept leaning over the bar, even after she pulled away from their kiss, their faces just a few inches apart.  He grinned at her. “So, what can I get you?” 

She didn’t even need to look at the menu; she knew it front to back by memory already. “Lasagna, of course. Although I still need to try the all-day breakfast one of these days. Thanks a million for not calling it brunch, though,” she joked. “Oh, and tea, two sugars?” 

“Coming right up,” he said, and leaned forward to give her another peck on the lips.  It probably wasn’t the most professional thing, to keep kissing his girlfriend ( _girlfriend_ , he still couldn’t believe it, and it had been weeks) in the middle of the restaurant, but he honestly didn’t care.  He disappeared in the kitchen to fetch her lunch.

Miranda watched him leave (nice view, thank you and kind regards), still blushing slightly at the attention; even though technically they’d made things official, it was still a bit thrilling being seen together in public. She giggled nervously to herself and then realized people were staring and promptly snapped her mouth closed, clearing her throat and trying to act nonchalant.

He returned after just a few moments, a plate of lasagna in one hand and her tea in the other.  Setting them in front of her, he resisted the urge to lean across the bar and kiss her cheek.  They had so many almost-kisses and false starts over the years that, now that they were together, he could barely get himself to stop.  ”There you go,” he said, fiddling with some of the glasses under the bar.

Miranda took a sip of her tea, smiling at him over the edge of her cup. He looked so cute in his chef gear, and it was rather sexy the way he bossed around the other waitstaff.

“So, where is everyone?” she asked, cutting into her lasagna. “Did I scare everyone off? Or was that Clive, with his relentless interrogation?” She rolled her eyes slightly. “Stevie told me they gave you a bit of a hard time the other night. Don’t worry about them! Stevie’s just jealous because I’m the one whose  _allure_ actually worked, and Clive’s living vicariously through us ever since he got dumped. Poor thing.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging.  ”You’re in here every day, anyways, so it couldn’t be you.  You might be onto something with Clive, though,” he said, shooting him a glare from across the restaurant.  He sighed.  ”I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it’s just not helping!”

Miranda turned her attention back to her lasagna; eating gave her time to think about how to respond. After a moment she set down her fork and reached across the bar for his hand. 

"I’m sure once he has all the goss, he’ll back off a bit. In the meantime, there’s always assassination as an option," she joked, squeezing his hand for a moment before letting go and resuming her conquering of the lasagna.

"So, exactly how much longer will he be staying at your flat?" she asked with a cheeky grin. "I’ll admit I was skeptical about having you stay over given how messy your flat was back in uni, but it’s actually been quite… fun." Her grin widened.

He smiled at her.  ”I don’t think it’s come quite to assassination yet, but I’ll keep you posted.”  He propped his elbows on the bar and leaned towards her.  ”And I have no idea.  It’s supposed to be until he finds another place, but he doesn’t even seem to be looking.  I may have a permanent flatmate at this rate.”

“Well, you can use my flat as sanctuary for as long as you need to,” she offered, pleased with herself when she managed not to blush. “Can’t say I’ve minded the company.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking down and brushing his fingers along the back of her free hand.  ”I’m sure you’ll be ready to kick me out eventually,” he said.  He chuckled a bit, trying to pass it off as a joke. 

Miranda stilled. “What? Of course not! It’s been lovely having you around this past week,” she continued, flipping her hand over so she could catch his fingers and intertwine them with her own until they were once more holding hands. “If you weren’t staying over, we’d hardly see one another because of how busy we’ve both been with work.”

He smiled at her.  ”Mmm, true,” he said, stroking her thumb with his.  His eyes focused on her lips, and again, it was taking a lot of restraint not to kiss her again, simply because he could. “Speaking of, I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

She smiled dreamily at him, as she often did, feeling his thumb caressing the back of her hand, before snapping herself quickly out of her reverie. “Hm? Oh, right, tonight. You certainly will,” she promised. “Bit awkward if you showed up and I wasn’t there, right? I’ll be there. I mean, I do live there.”

Laughing softly, Gary squeezed her hand.  He had always found the way she tripped over her words to be adorable, and this was no exception.

Then, suddenly, before he even knew what was happening, the words came tumbling out of his mouth.  
  
“I love you.”

Miranda almost choked on her tea when he said it; her eyes widening in shock as she set down the cup before she dropped it.

“Really?” she asked quietly as soon as she found her voice, already feeling the light, giddy feeling washing over her, but part of her still afraid this was just one of her daydreams. She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling the reality of it, that he was there.

His mouth gaped open, he was almost as shocked as Miranda looked.  When he felt her grip his hand, he snapped his mouth shut and blinked, reorienting himself.  The words had been rattling around inside him for weeks, and they had finally burst out, his heart finally triumphing over his fear.  ”Yes,” he said quietly.  The fear was still there, but for the moment it didn’t matter, because he had said it, and it was  _true._

“I…” the words caught in his throat, just for a moment, “I love you, Miranda.” He said each word slowly, deliberately.  He had finally said it, and he wanted to make sure she knew.

She loved how it sounded coming from him. How she could hear the sincerity and the affection in them, how he looked at her as he said it. Three little words, that she’d waited for so patiently, because she knew they were there. She’d trusted him with her heart even without them because she knew it would happen. She just wasn’t expecting it to happen over lasagna at the restaurant.

Suddenly very aware that they were in public and it probably wasn’t the right moment to have an emotional breakdown, she did the next best thing. She pulled him to her as best as she could manage with the bar between them and kissed him.

He lingered in the kiss for as long as he could, before the edge of the bar started digging uncomfortably into his stomach. He rocked back onto his heels, looking into her eyes and grinning like a loon.  He felt lighter, like he had finally let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in.  

“What, no ‘I love you, too’?” he teased gently.

Miranda couldn’t stop smiling, nor could she stop her voice from breaking slightly as she replied: “I love you too, you nut.”

She had told him she loved him a handful of times before, and it had always been both thrilling and terrifying.  Like skydiving.  This time, though, there was a little more thrill and a little less terror.  He reached forward and brushed a hand along her cheek.  Then, gesturing towards her half-finished plate of lasagna, he said, “I guess I should stop distracting you from your lunch.”

She’d forgotten all about the food in the wake of his confession; she reluctantly tore her gaze off his face and back down to her lunch.

“You’re an excellent distraction, though,” she teased him, taking another bite of her food. “And I suppose I probably shouldn’t be distracting you from work right now, but honestly right now I really don’t care,” she admitted, still grinning.

“You’re a pretty great distraction, yourself,” he replied.  He realized, however, that he hadn’t so much as  _glanced_ at the restaurant since Miranda came in.  He scanned the dining area quickly, and noticed a restless-looking couple in the back corner.  ”I’ll be right back,” he said, coming out from behind the bar.  As he walked past her, he snaked an arm around her waist and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before rushing off to take care of the customers.

As he hurried away, she focused on finishing her lunch, sighing contently. Everything seemed to be falling into place for once in her life; she couldn’t wait to go back to the shop and tell Stevie the news. She had a feeling Clive would eventually find out too, then maybe he’d finally give poor Gary a break. Miranda was still slightly gobsmacked that he’d actually said it, but it had happened, and she felt so ridiculously happy she probably looked slightly manic.

After Gary took care of the customers (a water refill and their bill, plus chiding the waiter that had ignored them), he hopped onto the barstool next to Miranda.  He idly circled his hand on her lower back.  The moment was so lovely and peaceful that he didn’t want to disturb it.

Miranda glanced over at him, smiling contently before leaning against his shoulder for a moment, silently acknowledging his presence. She knew nothing really need to be said, he’d said everything she wanted to hear.

She cleared her plate, sighing happily. He really was a great cook; she’d really lucked out landing a chef as her boyfriend. His hand was still on her back, and she really hated to break physical contact, no matter how small. But he was working, Clive kept finding excuses to look over at the bar, and they weren’t really alone. So she closed the small distance between them and kissed him on the cheek.

“As much as I love being your distraction, I really should go check on Stevie at the shop.”

“Right, of course, I’ll let you get back,” he said.  ”I’ll see you tonight.  I have to run back to the flat to get my things, but then I’ll be straight over.”  He stood up, his hand still on the small of her back.  He leaned in, his lips almost brushing against her ear, and whispered “Love you.”

"Love you too," she replied softly, squeezing his hand before hopping off the barstool and hurrying out the door before Clive could intercept her for another of his interrogations.

She stopped by the shop on her way home to catch Stevie up on the goss — her miniature friend was ecstatic to hear the news that things were  _officially_  official, that the L word was out in the open. She then promptly escaped upstairs when Stevie tried to convince her to work the rest of the day. (Even the notion!)

She dragged herself out to the supermarket to buy food (and sweets, of course!) and then finally skipped back into the flat to try and straighten things into some semblance of order. Then she curled up on the sofa in front of the telly and began the rather tiresome (literally!) routine of staying awake until Gary got off work.

It didn’t work quite so well this time.


	7. late night

Gary let himself into the flat, dropping his bag by her bedroom door.  ”Hello,” he called out cheerfully, over the sound of the telly.  He thought she must be engrossed in the program, because she didn’t respond, so he went around to stand in front of the sofa.  Her eyes were fluttering half open.  He crouched down in front of her.  ”Hello, sleepy,” he said softly.

She jolted awake at the sound of his voice, pushing herself upright and blinking guiltily up at him. “Sorry, must have nodded off there,” she apologized sheepishly, trying to smooth down her hair.

“That’s alright,” he said, amused.  She had a red mark on her cheek where she had been resting on the arm of the sofa.  He took one of her hands in his.  ”It’s late, let’s just go to sleep, okay?”

“But you just got here,” she protested sleepily, fumbling with the remote control before turning off the telly. Yawning, she let him help her to her feet and immediately wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. She was tired, but he was so lovely and warm and she’d missed him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she slumped onto him.  ”There will be plenty of other nights,” he said.  Gripping her tightly, he tried to drag her in the general direction of the bedroom.  ”Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

She attempted to wriggle out of his arms. “But I’m not tired!” she insisted, giggling as she tried to escape. They were about to pass the threshold of her bedroom, and she reached out and grabbed the doorframe, laughing. “I’ll never let you take me alive!” she said dramatically, holding onto it for dear life.

Chuckling, he let go of her waist as he tried to pry her fingers off of the doorframe, one by one.  ”You’re impossible!”

She let go of the doorframe suddenly, knocking him off balance.

“Alright, nothing saying this has to be a fair fight!”

Her hands slid down to his ribs and she tickled him, grinning triumphantly.

He made a strangled noise, flailing his arms wildly to catch his balance. He steadied himself as well as he could, with her fingers still fluttering over his ribs and sides, trying to find the right spot.  ”Hey!” he backed away, trying to retaliate by tickling her in return, but he tripped over a stray shoe, sending him stumbling backwards.

Seeing him stumble, she grabbed onto his shirt but the momentum was already carrying them straight towards her bed, and at great speed.

"Bed, bed!" she tried to warn him, before gravity took over and the ground dropped out from under them both. She landed on top of him, quite heavily, and squeaked in horror.

She tentatively lifted her head off of his chest and looked up at him, a sheepish grin on her face. “Well, I guess that’s one way to do it. I guess you win this round.” She started to laugh and lay her head back down.

“I planned it that way,” he said quietly, catching his breath from both the tickling and the fall.  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.  ”Just don’t fall asleep on top of me this time,  please?”

“Oi, we swore we’d never speak of that particular incident ever again!” she reminded him, still laughing quietly. She inched her way upward until they were at eye level and grinned at him. “And I’ll try not to, though it is rather cozy.”

“I appreciate the effort,” he said, lifting his head up to kiss her gently on the lips.

The kiss was slow and lazy; she really was still tired, but she wasn’t about to admit that now. Instead she curled her hand around his shoulder and leaned into him, deepening the kiss for a moment.

As she deepened the kiss, he lifted his hand to catch it in her hair, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.  He realized this was a diversion from his ‘get Miranda to go to sleep’ mission, but he decided he didn’t care.

Miranda pulled away slightly to smile before softly grazing her lips along his jaw. “I love you,” she whispered close to his ear, her grin widening as she said it, as she realised now that she could say it whenever she wanted.

“I love you, too,” the words rolled off his tongue more easily each time he said it.  It was true, and it had been for a long time, as long as he could remember.  He turned his head to kiss her neck softly, catching the fading scent of her perfume. _  
_

He’d said it more than once that day, but it was still such a rush of emotion when he did. She knew she’d never tire of hearing him say it. Drawing back slightly, she touched her forehead to his, listening to the quiet sounds of their breathing for a moment.

“So,” she began after a few seconds of silence, “while I do concede that you won in getting me into bed, we still seem to be awake right now.” She grinned cheekily.

“And we all know whose fault that is,” he said with a smirk.  He poked at her sides, attempting to get a bit of revenge for the tickling earlier.

She laughed. “Rude. Entirely your fault for waking me up in the first place! Though I suppose I’m glad you did,” she added as an afterthought, still giggling every time his fingers touched the weak spot on her waist. She still wasn’t as ticklish as he was, though.

Her giggling was adorable, and he prodded the ticklish spot he had found once more, before finally relenting and wrapping his arms around her waist.  ”Well, I couldn’t just let you sleep on the couch, you’d wake up all sore and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I’m not denying that this isn’t infinitely more comfortable,” she teased him, snuggling into him and sighing contently. “And I can’t complain about the company, either.” She affectionately nuzzled into his neck, placing a small kiss just under his ear.

“I’d hope not,” he said quietly.  His hands found the hem of her blouse and he slipped them up underneath it, her skin warm against his bare forearms. 

His hands were warm but his touch on her bare skin sent a shiver up along her back; the soft gasp against his neck was involuntary, as was the way her body pressed closer to his. 

He closed his eyes as their bodies pressed together, his hands running up and down her back.  Smiling mischievously, his fingers worked at the clasp of her bra. 

The instant she felt him start to unclasp her bra, she knew for certain they were on the same page, and she was now most definitely awake. Miranda grinned with equal deviousness before she kissed him again, making no attempt to hide the passion she felt for him, all the time, but especially now wrapped up in his arms.

He smiled into their kiss, his hands sliding around to the curve of her waist.  His heart quickened as they kissed, and he once again found himself overwhelmed by her, the feel of her skin, her taste, her scent, and the feel of her heart beating against his.

Every single time he touched her it felt familiar and comforting but new and exciting at the same time, and she never wanted him to stop. She softly moaned into the kiss as her hands smoothed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the soft fabric of his shirt before she began working to unbutton it.

Their kiss broke for a moment as she unbuttoned his shirt, and he lifted his head up to kiss her cheek briefly.  He sighed happily, his hands drifting down her hips to begin unbuttoning her trousers.

There really was no graceful way to remove trousers, really; it involved a fair bit of wriggling and kicking to get them down her legs and off, but eventually they were gone, sailing somewhere across the bedroom. She really didn’t care where they landed. Her hand moved to his chest, fingertips lightly tracing over his skin lazily while they kissed, gently feeling his heartbeat under them for a moment.

Their kisses were slow, and sweet, his hands idly tracing over her body, his teeth grazing her lower lip.  For once, he was in no rush; it felt like they had all the time in the world.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. It no longer mattered, anyway; all she could focus on were his hands and his lips and the steady thump of his heartbeat against her chest as they lay there entangled in her bed. Only when every inch of her skin was singing with electricity from his touch did she begin to move her kisses down to his neck and throat, her hand sliding down between their bodies to the fasten of his trousers.

Their clothing piled up on the floor, piece by piece.  He gasped as her lips pressed on his throat, his hands moving up her bare back and into her hair, tugging on it gently.  

Her body now warm with anticipation and more than a small amount of arousal, she pressed herself tightly to him, kissing his heated skin. When she heard him gasp, she grinned slightly, feeling rather pleased with herself for being able to elicit that type of reaction. Normally he was the one doing the wooing; it was quite fun being the one doing the seducing.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her body pressing against him.  His fingers still weaving through her hair, he pulled her face up to his to capture her in another kiss.

She eagerly returned his kiss, capturing his bottom lip between both of hers for a moment before it effortlessly deepened, the passion between them once more beginning to quickly escalate to dizzying heights. She growled softly when she felt his hands in her hair and then giggled at how ridiculous her attempt at being sexy came off.

Her laugh was contagious, and Gary found himself chuckling too, breaking off their kiss and burying his face into her shoulder.  When his laughter stopped, he laid his head back onto the bed and looked into her eyes.  He looked at her the way he always had, beaming with affection.

Miranda blushed, still giggling as she shook her head in exasperation at herself. “Oi, don’t you start! I’m trying to seduce you.” She held his gaze, her hand cupping his jaw, thumb brushing softly over his cheek. “Is it working?” she asked with a grin, though the answer was quite obvious from her position on top of him.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard before continuing, “It definitely is.”  He loosed his hands from her hair and clasped them behind her neck, his breath catching in his chest.  This was a side of her he had only glimpsed once before, and it was incredibly sexy.

“Good, coz this is hard work,” she murmured as she moved down to softly kiss along his shoulder and back up to his neck. “You make it look so easy when you do it…” She gently nuzzled into his skin, breathing in his familiar scent that made her feel so warm and happy when she was in his arms.

“Well, you are doing a bang-up job,” he whispered.  He slid his hands down onto her back and pressed his fingers into her skin.  He wriggled against her, his yearning for her shooting through his body. 

She grinned at his choice of words, and then smirked when she felt him losing patience with her. Satisfied that he was thoroughly seduced, she grabbed hold of him and rolled them so she was under him, her fingers sinking into his hair and pulling his head down to hers for a kiss. Her attempts at playing seductress had affected her as much as it had him.

The kiss was deep, and rough, the heat that had been building between them reaching a tipping point.  His hands roamed down to grip her thighs as their kiss broke.  ”You’re…”  _beautiful, wonderful,_ _incredible,_ he could have finished the thought in a thousand ways but his mind went completely blank as he entered her.

God, there was no way she’d ever tire of this, of the way he felt, kissed, touched her when they were like this together. The nervous excitement of their first few times had soon been replaced by indescribable passion as they learned one another in the most intimate way. Her fingers that were now buried in his hair had mapped out every inch of his skin, had made him moan just as easily as they could make him laugh.

His nails dug into her thighs as he choked out her name between ragged breaths.  Her fingers tugged on his hair and he closed his eyes and he had kept thinking his life couldn’t get any better and then somehow it  _did._

He was kissing her and touching her with a passion and a possessiveness that was entirely new and completely overwhelming. The way he pulled her close to him every time they moved together, the feel of his strong hands on her thighs, when he opened his eyes to look at her and she saw that he wanted her, needed her, loved her as uncontrollably as she did him.

And what was perhaps just as thrilling — aside from the fact that they were having incredible sex on a regular basis — was that she was the only person who got to see him like this. Nobody else saw this side of him, only her, when they were alone behind closed doors. She clutched at his naked back, fingers slipping against his damp skin, her self-consciousness slipping away completely as she buried her face into his neck and moaned his name.

Her breath was hot and damp on his neck, her lips forming his name against his skin.  He could feel himself starting to slip, so he slowed their rhythm, breathing heavily.  Covering her neck in rough, sloppy kisses, he released one of her legs and moved his hand between them.

The added sensation of his fingers to everything else she was feeling in that moment made everything that much more intense. Miranda shuddered against him, fingers beginning to scrape at his back as she felt herself beginning to lose control. And it was an amazing feeling, letting every inhibition go and letting him have his way with her, as it were. 

He placed one last kiss on her jaw before he pulled away from her, just enough to watch her reaction to his swirling fingers.  He loved seeing the effect he had on her, her tremors and arching back.  Her own passion was fueling his, and he began to speed up again.

As things became more heated and urgent, her hands swept over every part of his body that she could reach — his shoulders, his lovely back, his perfect butt. She felt herself beginning to slip over the edge and she pulled him tight against her, legs wrapping around him, their bodies in perfect alignment, melting into one another.

Everything was frenzied now, their rhythm and her hands and his fingers and his gasps and her moans.  He anchored his other hand on the bed as he exhaled her name.

She felt everything suddenly intensify and let it take hold, clutching at him desperately. She mouthed his name silently against his shoulder as she came, unable to form the words to describe how it felt at that dizzying moment of ecstasy. 

His muscles tensed as she clung to him, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing laboured, A warm euphoria overtook him as his body relaxed, and he pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck as he caught his breath.

She felt his heartbeat racing against her own as she tried to catch her breath, but she felt like her own heart was about to beat right out of her chest. Maybe she was having a heart attack. She’d die in his arms tonight… like the song. Miranda giggled to herself as she gave in to the lovely, warm, sleepy feeling that wrapped around her.

"Wow." Her voice was muffled against his neck. "That was…  _wow_.” It was taking her longer than it usually did to catch her breath, and she knew it was because things had never been so intense.

"Definitely wow," he agreed contentedly.  "You’re incredible, you know?" he said quietly, nuzzling into her shoulder.  His whole body felt warm and relaxed, and he slipped his arms under her back, pulling her closer to him.

She blushed and hid her face against him, rather pleased with herself. Her hands smoothed over his back before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her, still revelling in the little tremors that shook her body every so often. Gradually she felt her breathing slow and even out and she felt less like she was going to burst into flame from his touch, though it still made her shiver as they lay there together in a sleepy tangle of limbs.

He was content to lie there forever, their skin sticking together and her warm breath on his neck.  His eyelids were heavy and fluttered half-open, his dozy state making him idly wonder if this was all just a marvelous dream.

Struggling to stay awake just a bit longer, she lifted her head from his shoulder and softly kissed him on the cheek, her lips close to his ear.

"I love you."

Her words woke him up just enough to remind him that this  _wasn’t_ a dream, she was real, and they were real, and she had said it, and he had said it, and everything was actually working out wonderfully for once.  
  
He rested his head on her chest as he sounded the words out slowly, “I love you, too, Miranda.”

His breath tickled her skin as he said those three little words; she smiled drowsily and stifled her yawn with her free hand.. She could feel him drifting off in her arms and she knew she was dangerously close to doing the same, the soft sounds of his breathing in concert with her own lulling her to sleep. With a sigh of his name, she let her eyes flutter closed.


	8. day off (part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This para is over 15,000 words so we've split it up into a few parts.

Sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window when Miranda opened her eyes and blinked the sleep from them. Gary was still asleep next to her, his arm draped over her waist and his breath against the back of her neck. She felt so warm and cosy there that she really didn’t want to get up, but as she rubbed her eyes she noticed the clock on the nightstand, she gasped.

It was already past ten! He was meant to be at work an hour ago to prep for the day, and he was over an hour late! Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? She rolled away from him, out of the warmth of his arms, and sat up hurriedly before leaning over to shake his shoulder.

“Gary, it’s past ten! Wake up, you’re late for work! Oh my god, Clive is going to kill you, and then he’s going to kill me, and we’ll all just be… dead. Wake up!”

Gary’s eyes fluttered open for just a second before he squinted them shut again. He curled the blanket tighter around him. Still dreaming, he muttered “I’m not taking ice cream to school,” as he batted her hand away.

He looked so cute when he was sleeping, and she really hated that she had to do this. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she took hold of the duvet and yanked it none too gently from his grasp; pulling it off of the both of them she shivered slightly as the morning chill of the room hit her bare skin.

“Come on, lazybones,” she grumbled as she threw the duvet off the bed and crawled back over to him. With no other option, she sneaked her hand down to his side and gave him a good pinch. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, really,” she muttered under her breath.

The cold air on his skin and the pinch on his side was enough to jolt him upright. He squinted at her, still disoriented. “Why?” he asked, his voice gravelly and slightly pitiful.

With wide, pleading, eyes, he looked rather like a puppy dog left out in the rain. Miranda felt her insides melt but there wasn’t time for objectifying her boyfriend at the moment. She pointed at the clock.

“The alarm didn’t go off, and you have work! Why didn’t the alarm go off? Why hasn’t Clive rung you yet to wonder where on earth you are?” she wondered aloud, even as she started scanning the bedroom for where she’d left her dressing gown.

He crossed his arms over his chest, still chilly and wondering why on  _earth_  she had to rip the covers off of him.  Her rapid fire questions weren’t quite processing in his head; he needed a certain amount of caffeine to handle this.  ”What’s going on?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, his expression morphing from pouting to confusion.

“What’s going  _on_  is that you are very late for work, and the last thing we need is nosy Clive asking you whether it was because I kept you up too late last night with shenanigans. Which I  _did_ , but you can’t just tell him that!” Miranda replied, mortified at even the thought. Leaving him to process that, she grabbed the alarm off the nightstand and fiddled with it, trying to figure out why the stupid thing didn’t work proper.

“Well,” he said, things finally clicking into place, “that  _would_  be a problem if I were going in today.” Miranda was still messing with the clock, looking like she was ready to disassemble it. “I didn’t set it,” he added, gesturing towards her, “because I gave myself a day off for once.”

“You did?” she repeated, setting the clock back down before turning back to him, looking all dishevelled and sleepy and absolutely adorable, and she felt awful for waking him.

As she settled back down next to him, she realised he had the entire day off. Twelve hours, give or take, with no immediate plans. A grin broke out on her face. “The whole day, you said?”

“All day,” he repeated.  He smiled contentedly and snuggled up next to her, slipping an arm around her waist and wrapping his leg over hers.  ”Cold,” he whimpered, nuzzling into her for warmth.

Miranda wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, gently rubbing his back to bring the warmth back to his skin before she pulled away and leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the fallen duvet.

“Much better,” he said happily as they wrapped the blanket back around them.  Smiling, he trailed affectionate kisses up her shoulder before embracing her again.

She gently touched the tip of her nose to his, smiling happily. “Sooo…” she began, her foot slowly sliding up the back of his calf, “a whole day to yourself. Any immediate plans? What exactly do you do on your days off, anyway?”

“I feel like it’s been so long since I had a day off, I can hardly remember,” he said. “I guess I usually spend time with my best friend.  You.” he placed a kiss on her cheek.  “Or with my girlfriend.  Also you.” he kissed her other cheek.  He leaned his forehead against hers, “So I guess that pretty much sums up my plans,” he said before kissing her on the lips.

“I do like the sound of those plans,” she sighed happily and slid her fingers gently into his hair, their kisses slow and lazy and sweet. She pulled him close, feeling warm and sleepy wrapped up in his arms and the duvet.

His hand drew slow circles on her back as they kissed, fingertips skidding over soft skin. The day stretched out long and wide in front of them, and all the hours could be filled with this, as far as he was concerned.  Her hand in his hair tickled at the back of his neck, and he shivered.  “Hey,” he teased softly.

“Still cold?” she teased back, pulling the blankets around them more until they were completely cocooned in them and she tucked her head into that spot between his neck and his shoulder, kissing his skin absently. “I have a completely ridiculous and irresponsible proposal to make,” she said with a smile, her fingers still slowly tracing along the back of his neck. “That we stay in today.”

“That is an  _excellent_  proposal,” he replied, his fingertips grazing her arm.  Their bodies were tangled together, their warmth finally forming a toasty atmosphere under the blankets, but the cold air still pricked at his neck and face.  With a quick motion, he tugged the edge of the duvet up over their heads so they were completely enclosed.

She giggled as they hid under the duvet together, although she wasn’t entirely sure what from. It reminded her of building blanket forts when she was a small child; the memory made her smile as she nuzzled softly into his shoulder and sighed, her breath fluttering against his skin.

“And the first rule of staying in is that we be absolutely and completely lazy, shirk all adult responsibilities, and do whatever we want,” she decided. “Although that’s three rules. All equally important, though.”

He smiled as he slid his arm back around her, his hand slipping over her bare hip.  “So, what lazy and irresponsible activity shall we do first?” he asked, craning his neck to kiss her forehead lightly.

“You get to pick first; after all it’s your day off,” she teased him, taking his hand in hers and interlocking her fingers with his, their palms pressed together.

“Hmmmm,” he squeezed her hand, his thumb stroking hers.  “I can think of a few things I’d like to do.”  He leaned in to kiss her, but just as their lips touched, his stomach let out a loud growl.  Chuckling, he pulled away.  “Although, maybe I should make us breakfast first.”

“That is an excellent idea,” she replied, stealing another quick kiss before pulling the blankets down, her eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light. It was hard to leave the warmth of their bed, and his arms, but basic needs like food were still important! Miranda spotted her dressing gown hanging over a chair and scurried over to retrieve it, grateful for the warmth as she put it on. “I’ll have my shower and we’ll  _rendevouz_  in the kitchen?” she said, grinning. Ooo, French!

After she left for her shower, Gary finally pried himself out of the bed, wrapping a sheet around him for warmth as he looked for something to wear.  His trousers from the night before were rumpled on the floor, and his plaid button-down shirt was hanging off the lamp.  Picking them up, he went to add them to the ever-growing pile of clothing that was collecting in the corner, but it was gone.  Furrowing his brow in confusion, he padded through the kitchen and knocked on the door.  ”Miranda, what happened to my clothes?”

She paused mid-shampoo, thinking for a moment as she tried to remember what she’d done with them. He’d been staying over so often lately that his clothes had ended up with the rest of the laundry.

“Oh, I put them in the dresser!” she called back over the spray of the water. “Third drawer. Although I admit I think we lost one of your socks; I can’t find its mate anywhere. I’m sure it’ll turn up; they always do…” Her voice trailed off as she moved to rinse the suds from her hair.

Thanking her, he headed back into the bedroom and opened the drawer.  The drawer was surprisingly full, at first he thought his things were just stacked on top of Miranda’s, but as he rummaged through it, he realized all of it was his.  There didn’t seem to be much missing, actually, at least of the things he wore regularly.

 He pulled a pair of pyjama bottoms and t-shirt out of the bottom of the drawer; if they were staying in all day, he might as well be comfortable. As he tugged the shirt over his head, he was struck with a sudden feeling of deja vu.  Unable to place it, he headed back into the kitchen to begin making breakfast.

Miranda finished showering and hopped out to dry off and clean her teeth. She put her dressing gown back on before running her brush through her still-wet hair. Even if they were going to be hermits and avoid everyone else, she at least wanted to look somewhat cute for him. She couldn’t resist singing a bit of Wannabe as she brushed her hair, using the brush as a mic for the grand finale, of course. Nothing like the Spice Girls to get one amped up for the day.

When she went back into the living area of the flat, his back as to her and she stealthily but quickly went up behind him, hugging him around his waist and grinning. “Hi!” she said cheerfully, kissing him on the cheek. 

She startled him when her arms wrapped around his waist; he hadn’t heard her sneak up behind him.  The bowl he was mixing batter in clattered to the counter, but fortunately didn’t spill.  Covering her hands with his, he leaned back into her.  ”Hi,” he replied warmly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said with a chuckle, squeezing him gently for a moment before looking over his shoulder at the bowl in his hands. “So, what’s on the menu this morning?”

“Pancakes,” he said, then, pointing to the open bag on the counter, he added, “chocolate chip pancakes, to be exact.”  He turned around in her arms to face her, and draped his arms over her shoulders.

“You had me at pancakes,” she said happily, fingers curling into the hem of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to her so that she could kiss him, her seal of approval on the pancakes idea. 

She tasted fresh and minty, and he couldn’t help sliding his hand into her damp hair as they kissed.  When they pulled apart, he wrapped his arms behind her neck and asked, “Have we got any bananas?  Thinking of throwing those in as well.”

“We should, although I can’t guarantee they won’t have faces drawn on them,” she said with a grin. Even with him staying around, old habits died hard and the occasional piece of fruit would be smiling at them from the fruit bowl. She released her grip on his shirt and went to go check.

“That’s fine,” he replied cheerily, “a bit of smiling fruit never hurt anyone.” He walked over to the cabinet that held the pots and pans.  When he opened the door, a stack of pans came toppling towards him, landing on top of his bare feet.  Cursing, he jumped away, then knelt down to collect the pans.  He had snuck a few of his own pans into the flat, Miranda’s just weren’t up to his standards, especially considering she never used them.  But between his pans and hers, the cupboard was getting too full, and the result was his smashed foot.

Miranda grabbed a couple bananas before rushing back over to his side, alarmed.

“Oh my god, what happened?” she gasped, looking from him to the overflowing cupboard. Did she really have that much crockery? Wait, no, crockery was dishes. It was just such a good word she wanted to use it. But really, she didn’t think she’d managed to collect so many pots and pans. She dropped down onto the floor beside him to help clean up.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, setting aside the one pan he had actually come over for.  ”Just had a bit of a spill.”  He put the pans back into the cupboard one by one, attempting to stack them more securely this time. He winced slightly, his foot twinging.

“I’m starting to actually believe you’re as clumsy as I am,” she teased him gently, finding an empty spot to shove in a muffin tray she didn’t recognise. She shrugged to herself and closed the cupboard door and then turned to him. “I must be rubbing off on you or something.” Realising how that sounded, she blushed for a moment.

He chuckled. “I think I just have bad luck with this kitchen,” he joked.  The pain in his foot had subsided, and he was just thankful it hadn’t been a cast iron pan.  Walking back over to the counter, he said, “Let’s see if I can finish making breakfast without setting myself on fire again.”

“You do seem to have a bad track record for catching fire…”

Miranda was still laughing as she followed him with the bananas, which she set about peeling and slicing up for their pancakes. She wasn’t entirely useless in the kitchen. And she could handle a knife just fine, thank you. Although she felt guilty cutting Mr Banana into a dozen pieces while its sibling watched from the fruit bowl.

“It doesn’t happen that often,” he insisted.  ”And I still say it’s this kitchen’s fault.  I don’t have nearly as many accidents at the restaurant.”  Grabbing the bowl of batter, took everything over to the stove and began to heat up the pan.

Miranda waited until his back was turned before she stole some chocolate bits from the bag he’d left behind. “Really? I find that a bit hard to believe,” she continued to tease him before she pushed off from the counter and went over to him with a grin. As they waited for the pan to heat, she slid her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The word had been on the tip of her tongue all morning but she hadn’t realised it until just now: it was all so very domestic. Waking up together, making breakfast together, it wasn’t something they’d yet been able to do because of his work schedule and her own, but it was lovely.

Gary turned to kiss the top of her head lightly.  He was constantly finding himself sneaking small kisses, on her cheek, her neck, her forehead, whenever she was within reach.  The pan heated, he started scooping in the batter, then dropped a few banana slices on top.

Miranda reached for the bowl of chocolate chips, adding a very generous pile of them to the batter. She supposed the chocolate cancelled out the fruit, but altogether they created a trifecta of deliciousness. Unable to resist, she reached for another handful and started eating them again.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her to him.  ”Hey, aren’t you going to share?” he asked, holding his free hand out expectantly.

She considered it for a moment. “Yeah, no, I think I’ll just keep these for myself,” she laughed, wriggling out of his grasp and backing away.

He stepped towards her, trying to keep an eye on the stove at the same time.  ”Have it your way,” he said, “See if I let you have any pancakes, then,” he grinned at her.

“You drive a very hard bargain,” she giggled, looking longingly at the pan on the hob before surrendering the bowl to him, not before taking another few pieces of chocolate for herself, of course.

“That’s better,” he said, taking the bowl from her, and scooping a few bits into his mouth.  He smiled at her, flipping the pancake to the other side and going to fetch plates from the cupboard.

Before long the scent of pancakes and chocolate filled the kitchen, and her stomach growled loudly as they finished setting the table for breakfast. While he dealt with adding to the small mountain of pancakes assembled on the plate, she sorted out the coffee. She couldn’t help sneaking glances over at him every time he reached for another chocolate chip when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Cooking finished and dishes stacked in the sink, Gary set down the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table.  ”All ready,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She bounced slightly in excitement at the sight of the pancakes, grinning. “Best part about having a chef for a boyfriend,” she said sweetly, kissing him on the cheek before slipping out of his arms and making a beeline for the pancakes, staking her claim on the largest and most chocolate-y of the pile.

He sat down across from her, taking a slightly burnt pancake for himself.  Looking at her expectantly as she started in, he asked, “Good?”

She took a bite of the pancake and closed her eyes happily. “It’s a pancake with bananas and chocolate, Gary. It’s not just good, it’s brilliant.”

Customers at the restaurant enjoying his cooking was one thing, Miranda was completely another. It wasn’t that she was hard to please, of course, but the way she so thoroughly enjoyed the things he cooked her elated him.  He grinned, kicking his feet out happily, his long legs causing him to accidentally kick her in the shins.  ”Oops, sorry.”

“Oi, is that what you call table manners?” she teased him, giving him a gentle kick of her own, her foot connecting with his ankle before she reached for her coffee mug, still giggling. 

“Hey, it was an accident,” he said, pretending to be offended.  As he took a bite of pancake, he tried to trap her foot under his own.

“Maybe so, but this certainly isn’t!” she laughed, trying to pull her foot free but not quick enough. Trying to act nonchalant  she helped herself to another pancake and then sneakily brought her other foot into the foray, swiping at his leg, toes curling around the hem of his pyjama bottoms and pulling at them.

“Hey,” he laughed, as he tried to shake off her hold on him, while still keeping her other foot trapped.  ”Sneaky,” he said affectionately.

“And yet you have me at a disadvantage,” she protested, once more trying to wriggle her foot out of from under his with little success. “I think we’ve reached a bit of a stalemate here; I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned cheekily and let go of his pyjama bottoms, letting her foot slide easily down his calf as she reached for her coffee.

“Hmm, no, I think I’m winning.” He smiled at her as he took another bite of his pancake, keeping his foot firmly on top of hers. 

“Fine, you win,” she said with a sigh, grinning at him as she cleared her plate. “Well, you win this round. I’m sure I’ll get you back.” She reached over and stole the last bite of his pancake with her fork, her grin widening. “In fact, I’m kind of counting on it.”

“Hey!” He chuckled, trying to steal it back with his fork, but he was too slow.  As she popped it into her mouth, he poised his fork over the last pancake in the middle of the table.  Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “Am I going to have to fight you for it?”

Seeing him make a move for the last pancake, she quickly intercepted his fork with her own. “Absolutely. It’s like fencing, only with forks.” She jabbed at his utensil with hers, grinning. “Although I can’t promise it’s any less dangerous, I’ll try to avoid stabbing you.” Given his history of injuring herself in the kitchen, she carefully pushed his fork away with hers.

“Can’t promise to do the same,” he joked, “I fight dirty.” He dodged his hand underneath hers, stabbing at the pancake and trying to pull it onto his plate.  

She did the same, pulling in the opposite direction until it broke into pieces, the largest of which was trapped under her fork. “Round two to me,” she said happily, sliding her prize onto her plate.

“Congratulations,” he said, amused.  As he reached for his coffee, he added, “We’ll have to have a tiebreaker later.” 

As she finished the last pancake, feeling quite pleased with herself, her foot continued to rub absently against his ankle, while the trapped one had given up entirely. She was already plotting her strategy on how she’d be able to beat him in a tiebreaker.

He stood up to begin clearing the dishes from the table.  When he walked over to grab her plate, he couldn’t resist leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek.

As he walked over to sort out the dishes she finished her coffee and then got up to go help. As they finished she couldn’t help but notice how at-home he seemed in her kitchen; he probably used it more than she did, really.

They didn’t speak for a few moments, the only sounds were the running water and the clinking of dishes.  He shifted towards her, bumping his shoulder into hers.  

She bumped him back with her elbow, grinning before moving her hand under the running water and flicking the water towards him.

“Hey!” he jumped backwards, trying to avoid the water.  Wrapping his arms around her waist, he tried to pull her away from the sink.

She tried to break free from his grasp, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other continuing to splash him with water; as a result she ended up getting most of it on herself, her grip loosening, her wet hands slipping until she let go and they went stumbling backwards.

They bumped into the kitchen table, his arms grasping around her waist even tighter in an attempt to keep them upright.  (Always a challenge, with the two of them.) She had been incredibly efficient with her splashing, half of the front of his shirt was soaked through, and he could feel large wet patches on her dressing gown, as well.  

As they steadied themselves, his hands smoothed over the damp fabric, and he tugged at the tie of her gown, pulling it undone.

“Off with the wet clothes, then?” she asked cheekily. Her hands reached for the hem of his t-shirt, taking a moment to admire how the wet fabric clung to his chest as she did. He was definitely ogling her; it was only fair she got in a bit of the same. She stepped closer to him, fingers brushing over his skin as she began to pull at his shirt.

“Well it’d be terribly uncomfortable to keep them on,” he teased.  He slipped his hand into the opening of her gown, his hand brushing on the soft skin of her stomach.

“Entirely my fault,” she admitted, though the mischievous grin remained fixed on her lips as she really didn’t feel the slightest bit sorry. Her hands crept under the hem of his shirt as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

His hand gripped at the curve of her waist, gently pulling her closer to him.  ”That’s quite alright,” he said softly, before capturing her in a kiss, still smiling as he pressed his lips to hers.

She relaxed against him as they kissed, her fingers lazily moving over his back, enjoying the intimacy of the moment and the feel of being in his arms.

He would never get tired of this.  Kissing her.  He had waited years and years to kiss her again.  (After that one time, in uni, the time she didn’t remember and that he sometimes tried to forget.)  So many times it had almost happened, some times where it looked like it never would.  But now, they were in the kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning, all soft skin and warm breath and slow, sweet kisses.  It was definitely worth the wait.

Her fingers gently stroked his back as she stepped closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body; normally he was the one who was all hands when they kissed but she found she couldn’t stop touching him in some way, almost as if to reaffirm that he was there. Because even though they’d been officially together for over a month (a shock and a thrill all on its own) she still woke up sometimes amazed the night before hadn’t been just a dream. She sighed happily against his lips, her eyes fluttering open slightly.

When they pulled apart, finally, to catch their breath, he leaned his forehead against hers, smiling serenely.  Cupping his hand at her neck, his thumb traced along her jawline.  ”I love you,” he whispered earnestly.

Miranda affectionately touched her nose against his, smiling back at him. “I love you, too. Very much. A rather embarrassing, ridiculous amount,” she joked lightly, and then pressed a soft kiss to his lips before draping her arms around his neck. “Mm, you know it’s only been a month since you kissed me for the first time, and now we’ve taken to hiding out in my flat for the weekend. How far we’ve come, yeah?”

First time. A lump formed in his throat when she said it.  For her, it was.  But for him, there was still that thrilling late-night moment, the moment he had actually had some courage, as fleeting as it was.  But it didn’t matter, because she didn’t remember. 

He wasn’t sure how she would respond to the news, but he didn’t like keeping it from her, either.  He gulped.  ”That… wasn’t actually the first time.”

She’d been busy trailing soft kisses along his jaw down towards his neck when what he’d just said began to sink in and she stilled, confused. “Well, I mean I know we’d had the odd kiss on the cheek or a badly-aimed almost-snog before that, but those don’t really count. Nice as they were.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice going a bit harsher than he meant it to.  His chest was starting to pound and why exactly was he admitting to this again?  It had been his secret for so long, one that he both cherished and regretted.  But there was no turning back, now.  He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  ”Back in uni… on New Year’s, before we graduated… we kissed,” he paused, then added, “and I don’t mean the one at midnight, either.  It was… after that.”

Oh wow, she thought. This is going way back. She remembered that New Years Eve particularly well only because really, she remembered very little of it. She’d had a bit too much champagne and ended up staying over at his flat after the party. She woke up the next morning in his bed, still in her dress with a terrible hangover. He’d made her breakfast before walking her back to her building. She’d never really thought to try and fill in the missing pieces from the night before at the time. But that was almost fifteen years ago. Why was this all coming out in the open now?

Her fingers absently touched her own lips for a moment, like she was trying to pull up a memory she’d never realised she had, but there was nothing. She didn’t remember any of it.

“So… we kissed. You’ll have to forgive me for asking because I don’t remember any of this — and I’m surprised you do, it’s been so long, Gary! But… what happened after?” She had to know. Their relationship had obviously taken a turning point back then and she had no memory of it.

He winced at her question.  He remembered what he said vividly, having replayed it in his mind so many times over their last term.  ”I said…” he paused, swallowing, “I said that I didn’t want to lose you after we graduated… that I always wanted you to be a part of my life.  And that I fancied you and wanted to give us a go…” he trailed off, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes.

She’d always thought their timing had been a bit off. Now it was clear it had been completely and utter rubbish. The things she’d wanted to hear him say for so long had already been said, years ago, and she had no recollection. She felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how he had to be feeling bringing it all out into the open for the first time.

“I’m so sorry, Gary. I didn’t know. I wish I had… not because I’m not happy with how things turned out for us here and now, but… just for that extra time we could have had,” she said quietly, a sad smile on her lips as she looked up at him and saw the emotion in his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he replied softly.  A tear escaped from his eye and he batted it away quickly.  ”I just wish I could have worked up the nerve to try again.  Instead of waiting another ten years.”  He leaned forward to kiss her forehead softly.

Miranda pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly, burying her head into his shoulder for a moment. “I wanted to tell you so many times, too. I got so close… when you left for Hong Kong I wanted to ask you to stay,” she admitted quietly. “But really, it doesn’t matter anymore, not really. I loved you then, and even though we’ve both changed since then, the way I feel about you, the way you make me feel, that hasn’t changed. I’m still ridiculously in love with you.”

He nuzzled into her hair, his arms now wrapped around her.  Her mention of Hong Kong almost made him laugh; he had so hoped she would ask him to stay.  Nothing had ever come easily for the two of them.  ”You’re right,” he said, his voice low, “what matters is that we’re here now.”

“And I’m so happy we are,” she said sincerely, pulling away just slightly to look him in the eye. “It was worth the wait. You were worth the wait.” 

She had barely finished her sentence before he was kissing her again, his hands curling into the fabric of her dressing gown.  He let his kisses tell her, Yes, yes, you were worth every argument and misunderstanding, every botched kiss and disrupted moment.  

Her soft gasp of shock and delight was muffled by his mouth as he kissed her, and after a second she let her eyes close; he didn’t have to use words, she knew and could feel every emotion in the way he kissed her and touched her, and she felt the same way, always and completely. 

The kiss started off slow, but it quickly grew more passionate, his arms finding their way back into the opening of her gown, hands sliding over her waist and around her back.  

His hands skimming over her bare skin made her shiver slightly; she pressed close to him, craving the warmth of his body and the feel of his arms around her. Her fingers slid into his hair as she pulled his face to hers; they were doing nothing more than kissing and he still managed to drive her absolutely crazy.

He leaned against the table, perched on the edge, his hands still roaming over her.  Breaking apart from her lips, he trailed kisses down her jaw before finally burying his face into the curve of her neck.

The more his hands touched, caressed, explored her naked skin the more she became aware that he had her at a disadvantage in terms of the amount of clothing. She pushed him back against the table as she gripped the hem of his shirt and began to pull it up his sides, her breath stuttering slightly when she felt him kiss her neck.

As his shirt fell to the floor, he gently pulled the collar of her dressing gown away, exposing her bare shoulder as he kissed along it, his teeth occasionally scraping lightly on her skin.  He wrapped his legs around hers, pulling her closer to him as he sat back on the table.  

As soon as his shirt was gone her hands were everywhere she could reach, fingertips skimming over every bit of exposed skin that she now knew so intimately. Her fingers scratched gently at his back, stroked at his shoulders, pulled at his hair, all the while her heart racing and her breathing laboured as he did the same to her.

The rapid movement of her hands fueled him, and he practically ripped at her gown, sliding it down her arms.  He moaned softly against her skin, his lips moving lower and lower.

The fiery burst of passion and lust that rushed through her whenever things got to that point never failed to make her legs weak; she dropped one hand onto the edge of the table to steady herself and suddenly remembered where they were.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this… thoroughly enjoying this, actually…” she stammered, closing her eyes as his kisses moved down her neck. “We’re in my kitchen. Surrounded by knives and…” She ran out of reasons for them to stop; really it was just the one. And the more urgent things became between them, even that one seemed irrelevant.

“Right,” he said, between kisses along her collarbone.  ”We should probably…” he unwrapped his legs from her and slid off the table, accidentally stepping on her toes in the process.  ”Mmm, sorry,” he mumbled, his lips still slowly working their way down down her body.

She never wanted him to stop kissing her, never wanted to stop touching him; even just the short trip to the bedroom seemed so very far away. Her mind made up, she took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from her and back toward the table. “Risking it,” she breathed, and then pushed him down onto it, in a move that brought back memories of another day years ago that hadn’t ended as spectacularly as this one would.

One moment, Gary was kissing along the lovely soft skin of her breast, the next, he was flat on his back on the kitchen table, the cold tabletop sticking to his bare skin.  ”Come here, then,” he said, his voice low, reaching for her hands and pulling her towards him.

“That was the general idea, yeah,” she breathed with a grin as she carefully clambered up onto the table and crawled up along his body until they were face to face once more, one of her thighs between both of his, nothing separating them but his pyjama bottoms as her dressing gown had slipped off of her moments ago.

Her hair hung down in his face, a strand tickling his nose.  He smiled at her, gently tucking it behind her ear before his hands slid down her body  again. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her now-naked body, a sight he never got tired of looking at.  (That painting really hadn’t done it justice.)  His fingers gliding over her hips, he pulled her down so they were flush against each other, and pressed his lips to hers once more.

Their kisses became longer and deeper; her heartbeat erratic and her skin on fire from his touch, his hands on her hips holding her tight against him. Every part of her was desperate for him; he was the only one who brought out this side of her, and she liked that he was the only one who saw her like this. Her fingers crept down over his side to the edge of his pyjama bottoms and then slid underneath the soft cotton of them, grasping his hip for a moment before tugging them down.

He gasped as she touched him, her fingertips sending electricity through his skin.  With a bit of wriggling, his pyjama bottoms crumpled to the floor, and her warm legs intertwined with his.  Her passion fuelled his own and he reached up to tangle his hands in her hair. 

Feeling his hands gently pulling at her hair, she purred against his neck, leaving a few soft kisses against his skin before returning to his mouth. Her hand slid down between them to guide him into her, sighing softly into his kiss as she did. 

A moan escaped from his lips as he bucked his hips up to meet her.  He released his hands from her hair and slid them over her breasts, leaning his head back on the table in delight.  

She shuddered slightly at the feel of him sliding deeper into her; she was well aware that there wasn’t a lot of room on her kitchen table (and that she’d probably never be able to eat at it without giggling now) and it probably wasn’t the most comfortable place to have sex. But she hardly cared, and he didn’t seem to either, as she braced her hand beside his head, her other hand on the back of his neck, pulling gently at his hair each time her hips rolled against his.  

His thumbs traced circles on her skin as his breathing became more shallow.  The table rocked slightly underneath them, and he briefly wondered just how stable it was.  The thought passed quickly, though, their rhythm making him moan her name. 

It was easily one of the most reckless things they’d ever done, but also one of the most fun things. She wasn’t used to being above him, hair in her eyes, looking down at him through heavy lids. It was rather exciting being mostly in control, though his hands on her body helped her settle into a rhythm that was very enjoyable for both of them. 

His chest heaved as she rocked against him, his hand sliding down her stomach and slipping between them.  He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her and sound of her and the smell of her. 

Her body visibly shook when his fingers joined in the foray; she nuzzled into the crook of his neck and moaned against him, her voice muffled against his heated skin. She was close; this was definitely of the short and sweet variety, and she gripped him more tightly against her, wanting to feel him right there with her when it happened. 

The spontaneity and her position of control was all too much for him, not to mention the effect she had on him under normal circumstances.  His free arm clutched at her back as he shuddered, panting as he spilled over the edge. 

She barely had time to revel in the sound and the feel of him coming apart under her before her own orgasm swept through her; burrowing into his shoulder she could only continue to cry out his name, her shaky forearms giving way finally and she curled up against his chest. Her breathing was ragged but she couldn’t stop smiling as she listened to his racing heartbeat against her cheek. 

He trailed his fingers lightly across her skin as they lay there, her cheek warm on his chest.  As he caught his breath, however, he realized that their position was hurting his back.  He squirmed under her, trying to get more comfortable.

“Well.” Her voice broke the silence, her grin widening as she glanced up at him for a moment before rolling off to his side, giggling. “Sex on our kitchen table. Can’t say I’ve done that before.” Her fingers trailed gently along his arm as she sat up, scanning the room for where he’d thrown her dressing gown.

He sat up quickly, sliding off the table. Our?. Had she just-? His heartbeat began to quicken again. He peered at her, but she was facing away from him, pulling her gown back on. “Yeah,” he said, trying to rid the panic from his voice, “That was definitely…” He trailed off, chiding himself inwardly. He would not panic about this. He was done with panicking.

Tying her robe securely around her waist (although really, why bother? The point of the day was to spend it in bed, anyway) Miranda turned back to find him staring at her. No doubt ogling her—cheeky. She couldn’t resist a bit of her own before she stepped back into his arms and kissed him softly. “Mm. Not the most comfortable place to do it, but…” She couldn’t stop grinning at what had just taken place in their kitchen of all places. “Definitely no more dinner parties for a while; I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face!”

“I wouldn’t either,” he said, laughing, “Although that might be fun.  No one would know why we couldn’t stop giggling.”  He squeezed her waist, the conversation calming him down a bit.  

“I wouldn’t last thirty seconds; I have a rubbish poker face. Pretty good at the song, though,” she grinned, clasping her hands behind his neck, leaning against him slightly. “So. What’s next on our agenda of laziness?” she asked him, threading her fingers into his hair, which was already a mess from earlier.

“We could always head back to bed,” he said, nuzzling into her hair.  It was dry now, but he could still smell her shampoo.  ”Considering I was so rudely woken up,” he added, teasing her.

“Brilliant idea. I feel absolutely awful about that,” she giggled slightly, then let her eyes sweep over his state of undress. “Can’t say I completely regret where we ended up, though.” She grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the bedroom along with her.

They were soon wrapped up under the covers again, their feet tangled together and his arm draped across her.  He tried to relax, tried to bat away the pronoun still floating around in his mind, but it wouldn’t leave him alone.  ”Um, back in the kitchen,” he paused, clearing his throat, “you said ‘our’ table?” his voice squeaked when he said our, and he winced.

She froze, frantically trying to remember what she’d said. Her eyes widened in horror when she realised she had in fact said it, one of those pronouns that you just don’t use unless the circumstances are a particular way.

“Oh, that?” she began nervously. “Um, I just said that because, well, we’re rather acquainted with that table now, aren’t we?” She only blushed faintly that time as she recalled what had transpired at their kitchen table — and she’d just done it again! This time in her head, but it was clear that things needed to be sorted.

“I mean, erm, I’m not saying we need to live together. We’ve only been dating for… has it already been almost two months? But, um, I guess it just sort of feels like we already are. Tell me honestly: how many times have you been back to your flat in the past week?”

He thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling.  ”I guess just the once…” he said.  ”Clive’s rearranged all the furniture.”

Miranda let out a soft snort of laughter; of course Clive would have already moved himself in. “Well, it looks like you’ve got your choice of flatmates now,” she teased him. She was still trying to figure out what to say. She was still trying to figure out what she really wanted. It was obvious, really, but was it too soon? Too much? 

“It’s been a bit of a whirlwind romance, eh?” she eventually said, glancing up at him with a smile. “I’m not sure if it’s because we’ve just been waiting for so long, or if it’s because… I’m just so comfortable around you. Being with you. I’ve always been, and everything has felt so… easy.”

He wasn’t sure if he could call it easy, not for him, at least.  Sometimes it was, when she kissed him, or smiled at him, or made a silly joke.  When he cooked breakfast, or she came in for lunch, or late at night when they were tangled into each other.  

Okay, maybe it was easy most of the time.

But the big steps, the serious ones, calling her his girlfriend and saying he loved her and moving in together, they were hard.  Before they were together, their relationship was just this idea.  A hazy, wonderful thing that was full of possibilities and couldn’t fail.  But now they were something real, something solid, something that would either wildly succeed or fail spectacularly.  

It wasn’t the succeeding that scared him.  He’d always run from previous relationships at the first sign of getting serious, but that was because they weren’t Miranda.  He’d already spent almost half his life in love with her.  It was the failing, some sort of horrible crash and burn that would render them unable to speak to each other, that terrified him. The only thing that made it easier was her.   
  
When she laughed or smiled, everything else just clicked into place.  He didn’t have to worry about what the future did or didn’t hold, he just had to watch her, and kiss her, and try to make her laugh again.  
  
“It’s been wonderful,” he said, leaning over to kiss her softly on the cheek.

She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to feel anything but his lips against her skin.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet; she opened her eyes and met his gaze, holding it.

“You’ve been here almost every day since we started dating. I’m pretty sure most of the pots and pans in my kitchen are yours, because I’ve never had anything fancy. You have your own drawer. Clive knows if you’re not answering your mobile, if he calls mine he’ll be able to reach you because we’re always together.” She was ticking each point off on her fingers as she spoke. “Even mum doesn’t come around that much anymore because, as she eloquently put it once, doesn’t want to walk in on ‘that’. Although I’ve walked in on her and dad doing far wo— getting away from the point!”

She tried to expunge (good word, expunge) that particular thought from her brain before continuing.

“I think it’s been happening for longer than we’d actually admit,” she realised, dropping her hand gently back onto his chest, fingers still splayed out, on each a reason why they should at least try.

She had a point.  All the things that tripped him up, they were happening on their own, naturally, whether he put words to them or not.  There was really no point in trying to fight it.  ”I guess we might as well make it official,” he said, breaking into a grin.

“It won’t even be that much of a change,” she said with a grin, happy and excited and a bit nervous that they were actually agreeing to do it. “Let’s do it.” She leaned in and kissed him happily.

His thumb traced her jaw as the kissed, and he kept his eyes closed for a moment after they pulled away.  ”I think this calls for a celebration,” he said, his voice quiet but cheerful.

Miranda stole another quick kiss before replying. “Really? Already?” she teased him, giggling.

“Well, unless you have something else in mind,” he teased back, hovering his lips just in front of hers.

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” she said, her voice soft with affection as she pulled him to her. “Completely mad. We’re perfect for one another.”

He rolled over until he was halfway on top of her as they kissed, pressing her down gently into her pillows.  His hand skimmed up the side of her body before cupping her neck, his fingertips laced into her hair.

As she lazily slid her fingers over his back, tracing absent patterns, she thought of how lovely it was that soon this wouldn’t just be her bedroom, it would be theirs. Though if pressed, she’d admit that it had felt like that since the very first time he’d stayed the night. Even though that first night had been strictly innocent, she remembered waking up the next morning to find him asleep next to her and she’d immediately known that this was how things were meant to be.

He moved to kiss down her neck, soft, sweet kisses that were more affectionate than passionate.  The thought that there would more more days like this, long, lazy days for just the two of them, made him sigh happily into her skin.

His warm breath against her neck made her smile and curl her toes a little in delight; their movements were lazy and languid and she felt as though time was slowing down, just for them. Perhaps it was to try and make up for the time they’d lost trying to get themselves sorted, but she knew regardless of the reason, she wasn’t going to let a single precious second go to waste.

He placed one last kiss in the curve of her neck before resting his head on her shoulder, his hand gliding over her breast.  He gazed up at her affectionately, her content smile matching his own.

Her arm curled around his shoulders as she held him close to her; she turned her head and kissed the top of his, his unruly hair making her giggle. Entirely her fault. She wondered what time it was, but decided she didn’t care. She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be, and even if she did, well that was just too bad. She wasn’t leaving this very spot, wrapped up in his arms and the blankets, a duvet cocoon made for just the two of them. 

It was probably the longest they had ever been silent together, but really, they had said everything that needed to be said.  He was content to lay in her, sorry, their bed forever, her soft skin against his, the only sounds their breathing and the distant hum of traffic.

Her fingers moved more slowly as her eyes slid closed, her breathing evening out as the adrenaline and the excitement of their day so far wore off and she realised how tired she was from waking up early, the busy morning, the kitchen shenanigans, and the long talks they’d had about their past and their future. It had all been wonderful, but this was supposed to be a day of laziness, so surely a nap wasn’t unreasonable. She sighed his name softly as her hand stilled on the small of his back.

He smiled at her as her eyelids fluttered closed.  Stroking her arm gently, he closed his eyes, planning to join her.  He was wide awake, however, and he sighed softly as he opened his eyes again.  At least she hadn’t fallen asleep completely on top of him this time, though the memory made him giggle.  Slipping his arm out from under her, he lightly kissed her forehead and gingerly sneaked out of bed, pulling his pyjamas back on before wandering into the kitchen.


	9. day off (part II)

She didn’t sleep for long; the room was chilly when she woke and she burrowed down under the duvet for warmth before she realised why she was so cold. She blearily opened her eyes to find his side of the bed empty. Stretching, she listened for the telltale sounds coming from the kitchen and smiled when she heard them. Wrapping the duvet around herself, she got out of bed and hurried over to the dresser to find her pjyamas.

What had begun as a quest for something to snack on had turned into a full-fledged baking expedition.  The ingredients were lined up on the counter, the oven turned on, when he heard Miranda rustling about in the bedroom.  

Still yawning slightly, she threw the duvet back onto the bed before pulling on her pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt before padding barefoot out of the bedroom. She paused for just a moment in the doorframe to quietly watch him move about the kitchen — their kitchen — and how she’d always thought he seemed so at-home in it. Now he really was.

“Hey, sleepy,” he said affectionately, when he noticed her standing in the doorway.  He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her on the cheek.  ”Want a cooking lesson?” he asked quietly, his lips hovering near her ear.

Her heart did a bit of a fluttery tumble; the last time he’d attempted to teach her how to cook had been at Christmas, with the constant risk of brinking and her nerves on edge every time he touched her. She hadn’t even been able to pay the slightest bit of attention to what he was saying back then. 

“I’m a pretty hopeless student,” she murmured in response. “Poor attention span and all. Especially with a gorgeous teacher.”

“Well, I’ll try my hardest not to distract you,” he said, his actions contradicting him as he tightened his grip and leaned his head against hers.

“You are a walking distraction,” she grinned and leaned in to kiss him quickly. “Mm, so what are you going to teach me? Or rather, what are you going to attempt to teach me before giving up in frustration because I’m just completely hopeless?”

He unclasped his hands from around her back and took her hands in his, leading her into the kitchen.  ”Chocolate cake with Nutella frosting,” he replied cheerily.

“That sounds ridiculously decadent and unhealthy. It’s brilliant,” she said excitedly, following him obediently, his hands warm around her own. “I was about to ask if we even had everything you need for that, but my cupboards have been less bare the last few weeks. It’s either an elf sneaking in in the middle of the night, or you.” She poked him gently in his side, grinning.

“Probably an elf.”  Clapping his hands together he said, “Alright, why don’t you start measuring things out…”  He rummaged around for a piece of scratch paper, and scribbled out the ingredients on it.  ”And just put it all into that bowl,” he gestured towards it before turning to fetch the eggs.

She gave him a bit of a salute. “On it!” 

Really, it didn’t look that complicated. His instructions were easier to follow than the cookbooks she’d chucked out in frustration in the past. Still, she was a bit nervous that she’d be absolutely hopeless like the last time they’d tried cooking together and had ended up covered in sauce. At least if they got into a fight this time, they’d end up covered in chocolate. Definitely better.

But she wasn’t trying to get him riled up this time; instead she measured the flour with a critical eye, narrowing her eyes at the measuring cup until she was satisfied it was perfectly level.

Setting the eggs on the counter, he laughed softly as she scrutinized the measuring cup.  ”It doesn’t have to be quite that exact,” he said, placing his hand gently on the small of her back.  ”It’s a cake, not a nuclear experiment.” He smiled at her, then turned back to his bowl, cracking an egg into it with one hand.

She blushed slightly. “Things could very well go nuclear with me around, though!” She emptied the cup of flour into her bowl and went for another, trying not to sneeze as clouds of flour drifted through the air. 

“It’ll be fine,” he insisted sweetly, “I believe in you,” He cracked another egg into the bowl, and poured in the rest of the liquid ingredients.  Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist as he waited for her to finish.

The rest of the dry ingredients followed — cocoa powder, sugar, chocolate, really it was a deliciously obscene amount of chocolate that was going into this cake. She heartily approved as she referred back to his instructions, her free hand resting on his arm around her waist.

He withdrew his arms from around her, giving her hip a slight squeeze before he grabbed the other bowl.  Setting it in front of them, and standing closer to her than was entirely necessary, he said, “Alright, you stir, while I pour in the dry part slowly.”

She was acutely aware of how close he was standing; she gripped the wooden spoon tightly and started to stir the egg, milk, and other ingredients together. As the flour and cocoa powder slowly mixed in, the batter turned dark and chocolatey, and she knew eating raw egg was never a good idea so she tried to ignore how delicious it looked and instead concentrated on making sure everything was mixed together proper.

“Never realised this required actual upper arm strength,” she giggled.

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult,” he said lightly.  He pulled the baking pans in front of them and instructed, “Now, pour the batter into these, and try to make sure there’s about the same amount in each.”  Not able to help himself, he slipped an arm back around her.

“All I meant was you make it look so easy,” she giggled as she carefully tipped the bowl over to fill the first baking pan. “Are we making two cakes, then? One for each of us?” she said with a laugh. Either way, with her sweet tooth and her love of everything he made, they wouldn’t last long in their flat.

“It’s two layers,” he said, laughing, “More frosting that way.”  He paused for a moment, thinking, “Though two cakes might have been a good idea.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” she said sweetly, turning her head to kiss him on the cheek before returning to the second cake pan; even though he’d assured her it didn’t need to be perfect, she was trying her hardest. Satisfied that they were relatively the same size, she set the empty bowl aside. “Right, so we just pop these in the oven, then?”

“Yes, for twenty minutes,” he said, walking over to open the oven door.  ”See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Well, I imagine it’d be pretty hard to ruin a cake. Cake is cake, isn’t it?” she said happily, already anticipating twenty minutes into the future when it would be ready. She handed him the other cake pan to load into the oven and fiddled with the timer for a moment before setting it for twenty minutes.

“So, when do we reach the frosting part of this… culinary journey?” she asked, bouncing slightly in anticipation

“Right away, if you want,” he replied, though he could already tell that she did.  He guided her back to the counter with his hand on her back.  ”This is even easier.” He set a box of powdered sugar in front of her.  ”Just measure out a cup and a half of that, and then we mix in a stick of butter and a whole jar of Nutella.”

After the sugar was measured out, she opened the jar and used a spoon to empty out the nutella. “Well, I think I passed this test with flying colours,” she said happily with a hint of pride that nothing had caught fire and nobody had been poisoned. Adding the butter, she reached for a clean wooden spoon and began to combine everything together, all the while still aware that his hand was on her back.

“You were brilliant,” he said, beaming at her.  His thumb stroked her back as she stirred.  ”Oh, you’ve got a bit of flour on your cheek,” he said quietly, reaching up with his free hand to brush it away.

Suddenly she felt like they’d been swept back in time to Christmas the year before, with his fingers brushing against her cheek and she found herself unable to look away.

The difference was, this time there was nothing stopping them. She closed the small distance between them and kissed him gently.

He smiled as she kissed him, his hand still on her cheek.  When they pulled apart, their faces still hovered close together; he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.  ”Hi,” he whispered happily, looking into her eyes.

“Hello,” she murmured back in reply; the temptation to kiss him again was strong but then she remembered the bowl of frosting and it momentarily broke the spell she was under. Her face still warm from kissing him, she picked up the bowl and hugged it to herself. “I might just have the frosting. You can keep the cake,” she teased him.

“Hey!” he protested, grabbing at the bowl, “The frosting’s the best part!”

She quickly backed away from him with her prize, fending him off with the frosting-covered wooden spoon. “I know, that’s the whole point of me stealing it!”

“Such a considerate girlfriend,” he teased.  Following her, he grabbed at the spoon in an attempt to get it away from her, but it only ended with his hand covered in frosting. He moved quickly, hoping to back her into a corner.

She considered her escape options as she clutched the bowl tightly to her. “It’s your fault for delegating me to frosting duty! I’m quite proud of it and maybe I don’t want to share.” She dipped the spoon into the bowl of frosting and sampled it, her eyes closing in happiness and delight at how delicious it tasted. “Oh god, that’s good.”

He smiled at her delighted expression for a moment, before taking advantage of her closed eyes.  Swooping in quickly, he grabbed at the bowl.

Spoon hanging from her mouth, she opened her eyes when she felt him grab at the bowl. “Oi!” she protested, refusing to let go. “If you want it, you’ll have to take me, too!”

“Is that an offer?” he said, laughing.  He grabbed on to the bowl with his other hand, using all is weight to try to wrench it away from her, his feet slipping on the slick floor.

“Yes, it’s a two-for-one special,” she giggled, chucking the spoon onto the counter and out of the way before she resumed the tug-of-war over the bowl. He was winning, but she held fast. She had frosting on her fingers from where they’d dipped into the bowl; laughing, she leaned over and poked him on the cheek with them, leaving behind chocolate fingerprints on his face.

He grimaced as the sticky frosting slid over his face.  ”I’ll get you for that.” Tightening his grip with one hand, he reached into the bowl and quickly scooped up some frosting.  He swiped a stripe of frosting over the top of her nose, licking the rest of it off his finger before gripping the bowl again.  ”You’re right, it is good.”

“Thank you and very kind regards. I had an excellent teacher,” she teased, and let go of the bowl to clasp her hands behind his neck before pressing her lips to his cheek. When she pulled away she could taste the frosting on her lips, and she licked it off with a smile. “At this rate we won’t have enough left for the actual cake.”

“Mmmm, and whose fault is that?” he asked, smirking.  He leaned forward to peck her on the lips, his arms wrapped tightly around the bowl in case she tried to get it back from him.

“Entirely mine,” she confessed, using the frosting and her fingers to paint a smiley face on his other cheek. She giggled at her terrible artwork for a moment and then once more brushed her lips over his skin, tasting chocolate and hazelnut as she did, her free hand cupping his opposite cheek.

“Well, it’s all mine now,” he said, playfully slipping out of her grip and hurrying towards their bedroom.  ”I’m going to have to hide it somewhere safe!”

She chased after him as quickly as she could, but he was faster than her. (Must have been all that jogging he used to do. He was obviously a bit mental.) By the time she skidded to a stop in the doorway to their bedroom, the frosting was nowhere to be found.

“Rude!” she huffed, arms folded, but she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

“You’ll thank me when the cake’s done,” he replied, returning to the doorway and wrapping his arms around her.  He smiled, a bit smugly, the bowl of frosting tucked away in his dresser drawer.

“You’ve obviously underestimated the lengths I will go to for free frosting,” she sighed dramatically, trying to wriggle free with little success, still giggling.

He tightened his grip slightly as she tried to get free.  ”I’ll just have to find some way to distract you, then.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, the frosting still on his cheek smearing on her skin.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you will,” she laughed, giving one more halfhearted attempt to break free of his grasp before finally relenting and giving in. She could feel the stickiness of the frosting on her skin, and she realised she’d probably have to shower again. Ah well, maybe they could make it a shower for two — no, bad idea. She was still convinced someone would slip and end up concussed if any sort of shower shenanigans transpired.

He smiled as he felt her stop squirming in his arms.   “It’ll have to be something really good,” he murmured into her skin, kissing it lightly, “you were pretty focused on getting it back.”

There was something in his voice that made her stomach do a flip, but in a good way. She reached up and rubbed the frosting from her nose that he’d left there earlier before sliding her hand into his hair.

“Anything in particular you have in mind?” she asked, blushing. “We do have a bit of a time limit before our cake is ready.”

“Not really,” he said huskily, “But I'm sure I’ll think of something.”  He pulled away from her briefly to clean off his face with the neck of his shirt.  Smiling mischievously at her, he stepped back towards the bed.

Cheeky, she thought with a grin of her own; not that she was about to protest any sort of distraction that involved kissing her gorgeous boyfriend until the timer went off. She gave him a bit of a playful push as she joined him, giggling.

He grabbed her hand as she pushed him down onto the bed, pulling her  on top of him.  ”Hello,” he said quietly, before threading his hand into her hair and pressing his lips to hers. 

She lingered into the kiss, as she always did. And he was a fantastic kisser, really. She sighed against his mouth before drawing back slightly to look down at him from under her lashes, eyes half-closed and heavy. “And we find ourselves mysteriously back where we started,” she observed with a knowing smirk.

“I don’t think it’s that mysterious,” he said, his hands sliding down to her hips, “You know by now that I can’t keep my hands off of you.”  His fingers slipped under her t-shirt, playing at the elastic of her pyjama bottoms.

Convinced that she was blushing all over, she felt suddenly warm as his hands crept under her shirt. “You really do seem to have a bit of a problem with that, I’ve noticed,” she teased him. “Um, not that I mind. It’s a rather enjoyable problem.”

“I hope so,” he said with a soft laugh.  As his fingers grazed her soft skin, an idea popped into his mind.  His chest tightened at the thought of it, and he pressed his lips together in a cheeky smile.

He had that look on his face again. Unsure of just what was going on in that head of his, she could only react to the sensation of his fingers on her bare skin. She sighed softly as she looked down at him, nervous anticipation causing her heart to beat that bit faster.

Wrapping his arms around her, he tilted her to the side and rolled so that he was on top of her.  He bit his lip to keep himself from grinning too widely as his hands slid down her body, before pressing kisses into her neck, moving down to the soft fabric of her shirt.

She loved the feeling of him above her, his body covering her own, warm and strong and hers to hold as he kissed her. Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, lightly gripping his shirt as one of her legs wrapped around his, pulling him closer to her.

He let out a muffled moan as she pulled him to her.  His whole body stirred with anticipation and just the slightest bit of nerves.  He lifted hem of her shirt, his palms sliding against her bare skin.

She hadn’t the faintest idea what he was planning as a distraction (she hadn’t forgotten about the frosting, not yet, though it was becoming harder to care when he was kissing her neck and touching her bare skin) but she wasn’t about to stop him to ask. She trusted him completely, so she loosened her grip on his shirt and relaxed beneath him, unable to take her eyes off of him.

As she loosened her grip on him, he was able to move his kisses down her body, brushing along the thin fabric of her shirt.  As he reached her stomach, he hooked his fingers under the waist of her pyjamas, tugging at them.

Heart racing, she lifted her hips up off of the bed slightly so he could remove her pyjama bottoms. He hadn’t been joking when he said he couldn’t keep his hands off her; the prospect of doing a bit more of the sex while they had some free time was hardly a bad one. His breath was warm against her stomach, and she giggled slightly and sucked in her breath reflexively, toes curling in anticipation.

The bottom half of her clothing discarded to the floor, he slid his hands along her inner thighs, parting her legs slightly.  He let his fingers hover just millimetres from her, his breath catching in his chest. 

The sight of him between her legs, his hand so close to touching her but actually not, was both arousing and completely frustrating. Cheeky little tease, she thought with equal parts affection and disbelief. She could feel the muscles in her thighs flutter slightly in anticipation and nerves. 

He looked up at her, smiling as he sensed her anticipation.  He briefly considered dragging it out a bit longer, but they were on a time limit.  He closed the tiny gap between them, his thumb gliding over her in slow strokes. 

The moan that slipped past her lips was one of relief and pleasure, and a bit embarrassing. She bit her lip and tried to slow her ragged breathing, matching it to the pace of his thumb moving over her. Her hands gripped the bedsheets below her and her eyes slid closed; all she could concentrate on was his touch, slow and sure, knowing exactly what she liked. 

Her reaction excited him, his thumb swirling faster against her before he took it away, his hands parting her thighs even more.  His hands smoothed over her legs as he positioned himself, his breath warm against her. 

She groaned in protest when he pulled away from her, her breathing was ragged and quick and her skin flushed and hot just from his touch. When she felt him settle down between her thighs and felt his warm breath fluttering against her, she froze. She had the sudden realisation of what he was about to do, what he’d never done before, what  _nobody_  had ever done to her before. Her hand covered her face for a moment, embarrassment and anticipation and arousal and nerves causing her to tremble under him.  

He was tentative at first, teasing with tiny licks, tracing her with the tip of his tongue, gauging her reaction.  His hands drifted along her thighs delicately, his heartbeat quickening with excitement. 

That first flick of his tongue, albeit slow and gentle, made her gasp softly. It was new and different and while she still blushed when she thought too hard about it, it was mainly just one of the sexiest things he’d ever done, let alone to her. She bit down on her lip harder to hold back another moan and instead reached down to slide her fingers into his hair, silently encouraging him and letting him know she was very much enjoying this. 

As her fingers laced into his hair, he dove into her, painting her with broad strokes.  His pace stayed slow and steady, his fingers slowly drifting towards her centre. 

Her ragged breathing was the only sound she could hear through the rush of blood in her ears; her legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, holding him to her as she cried out his name softly. She felt so utterly and completely wanted at that moment, his kisses and his touches conveying to her so much without words. Her fingers wove more tightly into his hair, her body arching underneath him as he lavished attention on her. 

His fingers plunged into her as he licked and sucked, his mouth exploring the areas he already knew so well.  He was alert to every tremble, every sound, every taste, as he continued. 

Everything suddenly increased in intensity, the sensation of his mouth and tongue moving slowly over her, his lovely fingers bringing her that much closer to the edge. His name was the only word her lips could form. 

His name on her lips drove him on, his heart beating faster as he worked more quickly.  A soft, small moan escaped from his throat as his tongue dragged along her. 

She was so close, her body responding to his every move. She heard and felt him moan into her and the sensation combined with the idea that this was affecting him as much as her, that he actually liked doing this and wanted to, sent her crashing over the edge. She came with a cry of his name, fingers clutching at his shoulders and the back of his neck, body shaking as she came apart beneath him. 

He trailed light, affectionate kisses along her inner thighs as he pulled away, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.  Crawling up next to her, he slipped his arm around her waist.

She was only vaguely aware of his presence beside her, her eyes closed and her skin still tingling. When she finally caught her breath and slowly opened her eyes, his smiling face was the first thing she saw. Immediately she blushed and hid her face against his shoulder, starting to giggle. She couldn’t believe he’d done that for her.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked, her contagious laugh making him chuckle, too.  ”Should I be insulted?” he teased as he wiped his free hand across his mouth.

Immediately she quieted, blushing an even deeper shade of red as she quickly protested: “No, no, of course not! That was—you’re just… wonderful.” It was the happiest of sighs as she cuddled into his arms.

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself,” he said softly.  He kissed the top of her forehead and closed his eyes, content.

She smiled serenely, every movement lazy and languid as she stretched out beside him, her legs tangling with his.


	10. day off (part III)

Their sleepy embrace was cut short when Gary heard a faint beeping noise coming from the kitchen.  He shot up, his leg twisting between hers, causing him to yelp in pain. “How long has that been going off?” he asked no one in particular, as he untangled himself from Miranda and rushed into the kitchen.

Still drowsy and now thoroughly confused, Miranda yawned sleepily and groped around on the bed for her pyjama bottoms until she found them and slipped them back on before snuggling into his pillow and grinning widely; her toes still curled at the memory every time she thought about what had just transpired. She’d completely forgotten about the cake and her quest for the hidden frosting, although now their flat was filled with the scent of chocolate cake baking and she closed her eyes happily.

He scrambled for oven mitts, and pulled the cakes out quickly, placing them on top of the burners.  He could tell from the scent that they were burnt, but they didn’t look  _too_ horrible.  It was probably just the edges.  He pulled the mitts back off and placed them on the counter before returning to the bedroom, fully expecting to find Miranda sitting on the bed with the tub of frosting.

She heard him return and opened her eyes again, grinning up at him. 

“Did the cake survive?”

“More or less,” he replied, “The edges are a bit burnt.”  He stepped over to the dresser to fetch the bowl from its hiding spot.

Sitting up on the bed, she yawned again as she watched him move about their bedroom. “Hey, I loaned you that drawer for your clothes, not for hiding frosting!” she reminded him with a grin.

He laughed.  ”Loaned?  I thought it was mine, considering…” he paused, the idea still fresh and a bit  _weird, “_ I live here now.”

It was funny, how the idea hadn’t completely sunk in until just now as they stood there in the bedroom they now shared. The conversation had, after all, taken place between amidst cooking lessons, snogging, and a fair bit of sex. If that was a sign of what lay ahead in their future, well that was just the frosting on the slightly-burnt cake. 

She went over to him, carefully avoiding the frosting as she slid her arms around his neck. “Oh, but you have to earn drawer space. There’s not exactly a surplus of storage in here, so I’m already being fairly generous giving you a drawer,” she teased him gently.

“Really, well…” he said, his eyes focusing on her lips.  ”I think earlier warrants at least half a drawer, though I don’t object to earning more.”

Fairly certain she’d be blushing about that for a while, she cleared her throat slightly. “Fine, I’ll clear out another for you later; enough room for frosting  _and_ clothes,” she promised with a smile. “Although today just has me wondering why we bother with clothes at all since you just keep  _taking them off_.” Her grin widened mischievously.

“Hmm, is that a complaint?” he asked, grinning back at her.  He leaned over the bowl between them to give her a soft, lingering kiss.

She giggled, her hand on his neck as they kissed. “Mm, let me clarify that the _only_  reason I’m wearing clothes right now is because I’m cold,” she admitted between kisses.

“I’d offer to warm you up, but we should probably finish the cake first,” he said, lifting the bowl up slightly to make his point.

“Cheeky!” she smirked slightly, letting go of him and grabbing his hand to lead him back out to the kitchen. “Although not entirely sure I can look at our table with a straight face right now.  _Your_  fault.” Well, it had been her fault for throwing him down onto it in the first place, but… 

“ _My_ fault?” he countered, “You practically mauled me!” He laughed, setting the bowl down on the counter.  ”But you make a good point about the table.”

“I did not maul you!” she protested, laughing. “There’s not a scratch on you. I don’t think, anyway. Happy to take a closer look, though,” she offered with a grin, and then turned her attention towards the cakes, which looked delicious if not slightly… singed. 

“We’ll just put extra frosting on, then!” she decided.

“I’ll leave frosting duty up to you,” he said, fetching a spatula from the drawer and handing it to her.  ”Do the top of one, stack the other on it, then do the sides,” he instructed as he flipped the cakes out of the pans and onto plates.

“Right, I can handle this,” she replied, although she was distracted by the frosting. “You’re just… leaving this with me? Unsupervised?”

“Oh, you’ll be supervised,” he said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.  ”We’ve established you can’t be trusted alone with the frosting.  In fact, I think I’m getting a bit jealous.”

Miranda laughed as she started to do the top of the first cake, adding a rather generous amount of frosting to it; she wasn’t sure which was more distracting, his arms around her waist or the bowl of frosting she wasn’t allowed to eat. “Hmmm, there’s really no competition, though. This bowl of frosting, while delicious, will sadly be gone in, oh, an hour? Half an hour. Twenty minutes. Ten m-as soon as we’re done here. You, on the other hand… well, I get to keep you around.”

“That is an advantage,” he said, lightly kissing the back of her neck, “Although I’m not made of chocolate… are you sure it’s not a tie?” he teased, squeezing her waist.

She considered it for a moment before shaking her head, trying to concentrate on the edges of the cake even as she felt his lips grazing against her neck. “No, I think you’ve got the advantage… even though you’re not made of chocolate, you’re still sweet.” She grinned at her rather awful pun.

“Wow,” he laughed against her neck before reaching around her to steal some frosting from the bowl.

She lightly hit his hand with the spatula. “Oi! Am I going to have to supervise _you_  now, too?”

Licking off his fingers, he said, “I’m the chef here, I’ve got to make sure everything’s in order.” He grinned, thoroughly enjoying riling her up.

Miranda giggled and resumed frosting the cake, deciding to let him off the hook for the moment. When she finished, she set the bowl aside and then spun towards him, grinning. “So, is everything in order?”

“Everything is  _excellent,_ ” he replied, draping his arms over her shoulders and leaning in towards her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I had an  _excellent_  teacher,” she smiled, stepping closer to him and sliding her arms around his waist. She stole a quick kiss before grinning once more. “Want to try the cake? Because I  _really_  want to try the cake,” she admitted, giggling.

“Of course!” he said eagerly.  ”Should I get plates? Or are we just going to dive straight in?”

Miranda only had to give it a second’s consideration: “Well, we’re not worried about presentation, are we? You did leave me on frosting duty after all.” She wriggled out of his arms and opened the drawer, pulling out a couple of forks and brandishing them with a grin. “It’s all the same once it’s been eaten, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, picking up the cake and moving to set it on the table.  He stopped suddenly, the plate hovering a few inches above the table, and giggled quietly at the thought of what had transpired at the table earlier in the day.

She followed his gaze and realised his hesitation; she blushed pink with embarrassment before she grabbed his hand. “Come on, if we’re going to be lazy, we’re doing it proper,” she decided, and started to pull him towards their bedroom.

They settled in on their bed, the cake in between them.  Gary sat cross legged, his bare feet tucked under the blanket.  ”Go on,” he said, gesturing towards her, “You try it first.”

Miranda cut into the cake with her fork, expecting it to burst into flames and pleased when it didn’t. It smelled delicious, and she took a bite. Immediately she felt the rush of sugar, the richness of chocolate and the overwhelming happiness that came along with eating something delicious. She got that feeling whenever she got to taste Gary’s baking, and the fact that this cake, while slightly singed, was something they’d made together, made her even happier.

“Maybe there’s hope for me yet,” she joked, grinning at him. “It’s brilliant.”

He stared at her intently for a moment, then smiled.  ”Well you haven’t dropped dead, I guess it’s safe to eat,” he said, taking a bite that was mostly frosting.  He burst out laughing.  ”Sorry, that was a bit mean,” he said, looking at her sheepishly.

“Oi, rude!” she said, reaching over to pinch his arm, but she couldn’t keep a straight face and burst into giggles, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment as she took another bite of cake.

He smiled fondly at her when she leaned on him.  Looking down at his fork full of cake, he considered dabbing a bit of frosting on her nose. He thought better of it, though, realizing that it would probably end with the whole cake flipping upside down, somehow.

Life didn’t get much better than this, she thought happily, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. Delicious cake, gorgeous boyfriend, an entire day just the two of them. She sighed contently, spearing another piece of cake with her fork and popping it into her mouth. “You’re a pretty good teacher,” she said sweetly, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m alright,” he replied lightly, “It helps when you’ve got a good student.”  He smiled at the thought of her squinting so very seriously at the measuring cups, and wrapped his free arm around her waist, squeezing her closer to him.

She beamed happily, rather proud of her newfound baking prowess, even if it had been largely with his help. Still, it was a new facet of their relationship that went along nicely with the domesticity that was living together. She still couldn’t believe they were taking that step, even though like she’d said to him earlier, it felt largely like it’d already happened. She fell asleep in his arms every night and woke up beside him every morning. This was just making it official.

"Remember how I had a crush on that prof back in uni?" she asked, stealing the bite of cake from his fork with considerable speed. "I seem to have a thing for gorgeous men being all smart and knowledgeable, because I fancy you  _very_  much.”

“Trying to distract me with compliments while you steal my cake?” he teased, “You do realize there’s the better part of a cake sitting in front of us, right?” he tried to scowl at her, but ended up just breaking into a grin and kissing the top of her head.

She grinned up at him as she swiped some frosting from the side of the cake onto her finger, licking it off with a smile. The frosting really was the best part, after all. “True, but it’s just so much fun stealing yours,” she admitted; she liked getting him wound up.

“Alright, well, two can play at this game,” he said, and he grabbed her hand just as she had swiped another bit of frosting off with her finger.  Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the frosting off before dropping her hand and smiling at her smugly.

"Oi, what is with you and the frosting? Are you really that jealous?" she teased him, setting her fork down and shifting closer to him on the bed. "I told you, we’re just friends, frosting and me. I’m spoken for already." Closing the small distance between them, she kissed him slowly, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate as she did.

Her lips were sticky from the frosting and he brought his hand up to her neck, pulling her in closer.  ”I don’t know,” he whispered between kisses, his thumb tracing lightly along her jaw, “I think I’ll have to keep a close eye on you, just in case.”

"Oh, really?" she replied with a laugh, licking the frosting from her lips and smiling in satisfaction. "How much of a close eye are we talking about, exactly? Am I going to have to deal with a jealous boyfriend now?" She giggled and ate another bite of cake. "It’s kind of sexy."

“Sexy, huh?” he leaned in for another kiss, “Well, I can keep a very,” his eyes flicked down to her lips, “very,” they traveled farther down to her breasts, “close eye.”

"Cheeky!" she said affectionately, although she didn’t really mind the ogling, so long as he didn’t mind her getting in a bit of her own. "There’s really no competition, though," she confessed, brushing her lips gently against his.

“So I’ve heard,” he said as they pulled apart, closing his eyes just for a moment and smiling happily.  He reached for his fork to get another piece of cake, but it had mysteriously disappeared.  He patted around trying to find it in the blankets, but he quickly gave up and plucked Miranda’s fork out of her hand, using it to grab a bite.

“Oi, what is with you and stealing things?” she laughed. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you how to share?” She waited until he’d taken a bite of cake before she took the fork from him to have another bit for herself.

“This is sharing!” he insisted, taking the fork back from her when she was finished.  ”And might I remind you,” he waved the fork at her, “you were the one that started all the stealing.”

"I made the frosting, so it was rightfully mine!" she protested with a grin, once again stealing the fork back and taking another bite that was mostly just frosting.

“Well it was my recipe,” he countered, grabbing for the fork again, “I feel like that gets me partial ownership.”  He leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his playfully.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s fair,” she relented, and distracted him with another kiss so she could take the fork back from him. “Mm, but it really is good, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed, resting his head on her shoulder, “Loads of sugar though, I think I’m starting to feel a bit ill,” he made a half-hearted reach for the fork but gave up and dropped his hand into his lap.

"I think it’s a, what I call, sugar crash," Miranda said sympathetically, easily stealing the fork from him and having one last bite before setting the plate aside. "How many cups of sugar did we put in this, anyway? hardly a surprise." She kissed the top of his head.

He murmured in agreement as he nuzzled into her shoulder.  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he laid back, pulling her with him onto the pillows.

She yawned slightly as she curled up in his arms. She had a feeling they’d regret the overdose of sugar the following morning, but for the moment she really had no complaints about how the day had gone. Even more exciting was the fact that there would be more days like this, just the two of them. Especially now with their plans for him to move in.

He peered at her from underneath his drooping eyelids, his fingers curling into the fabric of her t-shirt.  A sleepy, content smile spread across his face as he realized that this would be his view every night.  ”I love you,” he whispered softly.

"I love you, too," she replied quietly, smiling serenely back at him as she watched him try and stay awake. His determination was admirable, and his face adorable, but after a moment she leaned in and gently brushed her lips against his. "Long day. We’re due a nap." She nestled closer to him, sighing softly as she closed her eyes and listened to his breathing.


	11. the wedding

Miranda nervously smoothed down the skirt of her bridesmaid dress with her free hand, the other clutching a flute of champagne as she tried to avoid being spotted by Tilly or Stevie, who kept dragging her back out to dance with them. 

Tilly’s wedding was every bit as posh as was to be expected. In other words, everything was over the top and ridiculous, but at least the champagne was endlessly flowing and the music was good. Stevie had caught the bouquet, which was a relief since the last wedding she’d been dragged to, the bride had just  _handed_  her the flowers. Rude! It was a silly tradition, anyway, and Miranda wasn’t in any rush to get married, if she even wanted to get married at all. (She still wasn’t sure, especially after what had happened months earlier with Mike and Gary.)

The rest of the ceremony had gone without incident; Stevie looked a lot better in her bridesmaid dress, and Tilly looked every bit the lovely blushing bride. Dreamboat Charlie was, well, his usual slightly creepy self, but she couldn’t deny they were obviously crazy about one another. She took a careful sip of champagne as she made her way back to Gary’s side; she was already a tiny bit wobbly in her heels (really, it was insanity that Tilly had even insisted she wear them) and the champers was making her a bit giggly already.

"I cannot wait to get out of these shoes," she said with a longing sigh as she returned to her boyfriend, curling her toes in her shoes and wincing. "Hence why I’m avoiding Stevie and Tilly — I just can’t dance in them, and they won’t take no for an answer!"

Gary smiled at her sympathetically, placing his hand lightly on the small of her back, his thumb sliding over the smooth fabric.  ”The offer to carry you still stands,” he joked quietly.  It was a bit strange being at an event like this as a couple; the first few months of their relationship had been largely confined to lunches at the restaurant and late nights at their flat, due to their busy schedules.  ”You should sit down,” he continued, looking around for a nearby chair, “while you have the chance.”

She leaned into him slightly, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be fine, just promise to help me hide if they come looking for me again. These heels don’t exactly make it easy to blend into the crowd,” she huffed. “Really, I don’t know how I let Tilly talk me into this; I feel ridiculous.”

“You look lovely, though, if that’s any consolation.” And she did, though he always thought that. He slid his hand around her waist and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She blushed at the compliment. “Thanking you! You do too.” She let her eyes wander for a moment before grinning and shaking herself out of it; she’d been ogling him all evening since it wasn’t often that they had an excuse to get dressed up. Which suited her just fine; she much preferred their lazy nights in at their flat, but there was no denying how gorgeous he looked right now. 

“Still, it’ll be nice to get home and out of this dress. I think I’ve reached my fancy dress quota for the year. Or the next five years.”

“Mmm, can’t wait for that,” he whispered, his voice low as he leaned in closer to her.  His hand in the curve of her waist and now her mention of  _removing her dress_  was driving him a bit mad.  He used to think that his desperation to kiss her was because he  _hadn’t_ or  _couldn’t_ , but he was discovering that it was more or less a constant state of being.

"Oi, we have to be on our best behaviour while we’re here," she whispered back, grinning cheekily. "At least while we’re in public; saying nothing about the rules back at home. But Tilly would absolutely murder me if we knocked off early, so we’ll just have to endure it a bit longer." Even as she said it, she had to concentrate on looking at his eyes and not his lips.

“I’ll try to behave,” he said with a slightly wistful sigh.  Biting his lip, he allowed his eyes to travel downwards once more before looking back up at her face.  ”It’s a shame Stevie and Tilly kept dragging you off,” he said, in an effort to change the subject before he pulled her away into a dark corner, “I never got the chance to ask you to dance.”

When he mentioned dancing, Miranda immediately felt that schoolgirl flutter kick in again. It was a wedding, nobody was paying them any attention, and it  was a socially acceptable (and according to Stevie, encouraged) thing to do.

Plus, she  _absolutely_  wanted to, painful shoes be damned.

“Hmm, that’s definitely a problem. Luckily, they appear to have left us alone,” she replied.

“I guess I should take the opportunity, then,” he slipped his arm out from  around her and reached for her hand. “Shall we?”  He squeezed her hand lightly as he weaved through the crowd, leading her out to the dance floor.

She squeezed his hand as she followed him, all the while trying not to panic. She wasn’t the best dancer as it was, though normally she didn’t care how rubbish she was since it was all for fun. But dressed in pink chiffon with heels on and she felt entirely… unlike herself. Not to mention they were now surrounded by people, and there was nowhere to hide if she tripped or stumbled or did something clumsy.

Gary found a clear spot on the floor and dropped Miranda’s hand as he turned to face her.  The song was fast and upbeat, and he raised his hands above his head as he bopped along to the music.  He had to fight off the temptation to air guitar during the guitar solo, that was something that was best left for when he was alone.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she watched him dancing; he was a total dweeb and she loved him to bits for it. She could see Stevie dancing a ways away with some hottie she’d befriended, and flashed her a thumbs-up before turning her attention back to her boyfriend, laughing harder as they danced along to the music. Who cared what people thought; they were having too much fun to care.

“Is my dancing that bad?” he asked, laughing along with her.  Grinning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a twirl, the skirt of her dress spinning out in a circle.

“It’s not any worse than mine!” she giggled in reply, trying not to stumble in her heels as she he twirled her. A bit dizzy, she gripped his hand tightly. “I think everyone’s just jealous of our skills, honestly.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed, still chuckling.  She seemed a bit wobbly, so he put his hand at her waist to help steady her.  A moment later, the song ended and a slower one began, the mood shifting on the dance floor as people coupled up or shuffled off to the sides.  Gary pulled her in closer.  ”Have to make sure you don’t run off,” he said quietly, smiling at her.

"I wasn’t going to run off!" she insisted with a shy smile. "It’s not quite so awkward when you actually have someone to dance with." She willingly let him pull her close, feeling her heart skip a beat. How many times had she imagined them dancing close like this — probably too many. She’d always run off on him because the possibility had been as terrifying as it was thrilling. But now she felt completely comfortable as he took her in his arms.

She slipped her arms around his neck and sighed happily; she could see Tilly dancing with Dreamboat Charlie and for a moment she felt a flicker of something. Not jealousy — even the notion! It was curiousity. She wondered how it felt to be newlywed, with an entire future ahead. Tilly was ambitious and headstrong and wouldn’t have any problem navigating the road ahead with her new husband. 

But for Miranda, who had even been reluctant to start dating again last year, had always thought herself a bit more cautious. For the longest time she had trouble deciding if she even  _wanted_  a relationship, someone knowing everything about her. Maybe that was why falling in love with Gary hadn’t been scary at all — in the end, he was the one person who knew almost everything about her already.

The absolute truth was — and she’d never tell him this — that morning, when both he and Mike had proposed, for a split-second she’d indulged herself with the fantasy of saying yes to Gary. She’d seen a glimpse of their future; maybe they’d move to Paris, maybe they’d have a child, maybe…

Which just made it all the more painful knowing those four words had been insincere, impulsive, and involuntary. She had forgiven him ages ago for that whole mess, but at the time she’d let herself believe, for just a few seconds, that he wanted to marry her, that he wanted her.

She watched the newlyweds for a second longer before turning her attention back to the only person she wanted to be with, the person she was so lucky to have in her life. Maybe they’d never reach that point, maybe marriage just wasn’t in their cards. And she was okay with that. She didn’t need a ring on her finger to show that her heart was, and always would be, his. She hoped he knew that.

He closed his eyes as the music swelled, concentrating only on the feel of her body pressed lightly against his, the warmth of her breath on his cheek, the slow, small steps they were taking together.  Turning his head slightly, he brushed his lips lightly against her cheek.

As she let herself get swept away in the music and his arms, she realised this was really the longest amount of time they’d gotten to spend together that evening so far. Between bridesmaid duties and Tilly’s love of all things wedmin-related, they were constantly interrupted. This was exactly what she needed to unwind from the stress. She smiled at the feel of his kiss and held him a bit tighter.

When she drew him closer, he bit his lip, their tight embrace reminding him of the talk of dress removal earlier.   Smiling mischievously, he allowed his hands on the small of her back to drift just a bit lower.

"Oi, you said you’d behave!" she whispered, giggling softly as she felt his hands moving down her back. "Thanking you _not_  to ravish me here right on the dance floor in front of everyone!”

“No one’s paying us any attention,” he whispered back, “And besides, I can’t help it, they’ve got a mind of their own.”  He planted another kiss on her cheek, this one sloppy and playful.

“That’s a rubbish excuse and you know it,” she teased. “You know  _exactly_  what you’re doing with those hands of yours, good sir.” She knew she was blushing by how warm her cheeks felt, and she hid her face against his neck. “You’re impossible.”

“A bit,” he agreed, giving her backside a small squeeze before quickly returning his hands to her waist.  He grinned, bursting out into giggles against her shoulder.

She squeaked quietly in surprise when he squeezed her but then joined in the laughter. “Cheeky,” she said with a grin. As her giggling faded, she realised the song had changed again into something more lively without either of them noticing. She made no move to pull away, her fingertips lightly skidding over the back of his neck.

Only vaguely aware of the couples breaking apart around them, he looked into her eyes as he caught his breath.  She was smiling at him, the same smile she wore just before he’d told her loved her.  Leaning forward, he stole a quick kiss from her lips.

She lingered as long as she could, wanting to just kiss him for the rest of the night until they could escape. “That’s it, I’ve decided. I’m not letting Stevie or Tilly drag me away for the rest of the night. I hereby declare my bridesmaid duties over.” She was probably tempting fate, but she didn’t care. “No more interruptions, I promise. I’m all yours now.”

He kissed her again, his hands slipping up higher on her back as he pulled her towards him.  His eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he caught sight of Tilly making a beeline for them over Miranda’s shoulder.  He pulled away quickly, whispering, “Are you sure about that? Because Tilly’s coming straight at us.”

Miranda’s eyes widened in horror and she glanced hurriedly over her shoulder. “Find an excuse to explain why I’m running out of the room! Anything!” She reached down and yanked off her shoes; there was no way she could possibly run in heels. She thought about leaving them behind, a bit like Cinderella, wasn’t it? “I’ll find a closet or something to hide in. It’s either that or we spend the rest of the evening listening to her honeymoon schedule for the eighteenth time.”

She kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Good luck!” she said with a laugh, and then fled the room.

“What? You can’t just…” he said in disbelief as he watched her run off.  But she was gone and Tilly was still coming towards him, apparently undeterred by Miranda’s exit.

“Where did Queen Kong run off to?” Tilly asked as she approached, “Is everything alright?  I need her help with…”

“Fine, she’s fine,” Gary cut her off quickly.  ”She,” he gulped, trying to think of an excuse, “she had to throw her shoes out.”  Tilly gave him a quizzical look, but he ran with it.  ”She realized they were made of leather.  She just became a vegan.  So she had to get rid of them.”

“But she practically devoured a cheese souffle earlier this evening.”

He winced.  ”It was a recent decision?”  He gestured towards the exit.  ”I should probably go check on her,” he said, beginning to back away.

Tilly grabbed his wrist before he could make his escape.  ”Now don’t you run off, too,” she chided him, “We need to have an eensy-weensy chat about earlier.”

Miranda hurried barefoot through the hall, nervously saying hello to the few people that raised eyebrows at her escape attempt.  _Closet, closet, closet, somewhere to hide,_  she thought to herself as clutched her shoes in one hand and tried doors with the other.

Finally finding the coat closet in the front hall, she slipped inside and closed the door, letting out a sigh of relief. Tilly had been driving her up the wall with her constant orders and instructions and questions, and when Miranda hadn’t caught the bouquet she’d offered to go get it for her from the younger girl who’d managed to do so. It was absolutely  _mortifying_.

She started to pace the short space of the closet as she waiting for Gary to find her. The last time she’d asked someone to meet her in a closet, he’d never shown up and she’d spent the rest of the party hiding in the corner with nothing but regret. But this was different; she was older, wiser, and she had a lovely boyfriend who would be there as soon as he could. Still, as the minutes ticked away, it was hard not to wonder what was delaying him.

He knew what Tilly was referring to immediately, and his chest tightened.  He tried to tug his arm free, but the tiny woman had an iron grip on it.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice who caught the garter,” an eager smile spread across her face.

“I wouldn’t call it catching,” he muttered.  He had begrudgingly stood on the outskirts of the group, yet somehow the garter managed to land directly at his feet.  No one else made a move for it, and after a few awkward seconds of silence, he picked it up. He was mostly convinced that Tilly had instructed Dreamboat Charlie to  _aim_  it at him.

“So, when are you and Kongers going to tie the knot?  I can’t wait to help her with the wedmin!”

 _I’m sure Miranda would love that,_ he thought, pressing his lips into a tight smile.

“You’re going to propose soon, right?” she asked, “You don’t want to wait too long, Charlie and I got engaged right away and it’s been totes amazeballs.”

“Look, Tilly,” he finally managed to wrench his arm away from her, “don’t worry about us, alright?  It’s your day, enjoy it,” he said, desperately trying to change the subject, his stomach tying itself in knots.  He pointed at the doorway, “I’m going to go make sure Miranda’s alright,” he said, hurrying towards the exit.

He loosened his tie a bit as he hurried down the hallway, his eyes stinging.  Just the mention of a proposal had him going a bit mad.  They had moved past it, as a couple, but even so, when it crossed his mind, a pit formed in his stomach.  The embarrassment that washed over him when he realized what a stupid, impulsive decision it had been, the pain of losing her twice in one day.  It was months ago, but sometimes it still felt fresh, like it had just happened yesterday, like he could make another stupid, impulsive decision and lose her again.

He knew that was a ridiculous thing to worry about.  Their relationship was good, and strong. He knew she loved him, that she wanted to be with him.  But knowing something, and really, fully believing it were two different things.

He turned down an empty hallway, looking for a coat closet.  He thought she’d look for that, rather than a janitor’s closet.  Too many hazardous materials.  He finally found a door marked ‘Coat Room’ and turned the handle, hoping she’d be inside.

She jumped slightly when she heard the door open; seeing him she instantly relaxed and hurried toward him, grabbing his arm and closing the door once more to block out the sounds of the party behind them, and finally, at long last, they were alone.

"Managed to shake her off my tail, then? Or will she be storming the gates any minute now?" she asked, her voice quiet in the small space of the closet, not wanting anyone to overhear. There wasn’t much room, and she stepped closer to him, smiling happily.

He sighed with relief when he saw her, her smile already chipping away at his worry. Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss. 

She instantly relaxed, any nerves about being interrupted vanishing as he kissed her. Wrapping her arms around him, she closed her eyes and let herself be swept completely away like she’d done when they were dancing together. Even though they’d been together for months, she was still a bit shy about snogging in public in front of people; it was one of the reasons why she’d rather be at home with him instead of here, but as they slowly kissed and she slid her hand up his back into his hair, she decided that right here, right now, this exact moment was rather  _wonderful._

He kissed her with intensity, as if he could thwart his anxiety with sheer passion.  His hands slid down her body, tracing her curves, and he could feel his worry slowly slipping away as he became wrapped up in her.  When he reached the hem of her dress, he sneaked his hands up under it, gripping at her thighs.

Her fingers reflexively pulled at his hair as things became more heated and she felt his hands under her dress. She vaguely tried to remember if she’d worn her nice knickers tonight, and after recalling that yes, she had, she gave in to the overwhelming urges that had been slowly building and burning from the moment she saw him dressed up in suit and tie and had to collect her jaw from the floor from where it had fallen.

With her free hand she reached between them for his tie, using it to pull him towards her so she could wrap her other arm around his neck. She pressed her body tightly to his, able to feel nothing but his hands on her skin, his breath against her lips, and her heart racing in her chest.

He let out a gasp of surprise as she pulled him towards her, almost stumbling over a stray umbrella.  His hands slid further up her thighs as he quickly forgot everything outside of their little hideaway.  All there was, was her, and him, and their bodies moving together in the darkness.

His touch on her bare skin sent shivers up her spine, the possibility of getting caught creating adrenaline and causing her to perhaps be a bit more bold than she normally was. She caught his lower lip between her teeth for a moment, her hand fisting around the back of his dress shirt as she softly moaned into their kiss.

Her teeth on his lip spurred him onwards and he matched her moan with one of his own.  Stepping foward, he pushed her against the side wall of the closet, one of his hands sliding back up her body and towards her chest.

Pinned between the wall and his body, she realised she was trapped in the most enjoyable way she’d ever been before. Their kisses were becoming deeper, more urgent, her hands more possessive as she clutched at his back and shoulders, craving the feel of his body pressed against her own. 

His lips traveled down her neck, teeth scraping against her skin.  He grasped at her frantically, everything becoming a blur of desire and need.  His hand slipped between the wall and her back, searching for the zipper of her dress.

The sound of her zipper being pulled down broke the silence, and she gasped softly in surprise and anticipation. The logical part of her brain was scolding her for being so reckless, but she ignored it and leaned her head back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as he lavished attention on her neck.

Suddenly their private little hideaway was flooded with light, and her eyes snapped open in shock and confusion. Stevie stood in the doorway, her hand in front of her eyes.

“I’m not looking, I don’t even want to know, but you’re both lucky I found you before Tilly did!”

He bolted away from Miranda reflexively, turning around to face the door.  ”No, we were just… ah…” he started to explain, but his voice trailed off when he realized there was really no way to make this less awkward.  Putting his hand to his mouth, he tried to keep himself from bursting out into laughter at how  _utterly ridiculous_  this was, but failed.  ”Did you need something?” he choked out between giggles.

Miranda guiltily tried to smooth down her disheveled hair with one hand while holding up her dress with the other, her cheeks flaming red.

"Shirking your bridesmaid duties for a snog, are we?" Stevie asked, still hiding her eyes even though there really wasn’t anything particularly damning to see. "Wanting to tell you that Tilly’s been looking for you; apparently your boyfriend is an absolutely rubbish liar. You, go vegan? That’s completely ridiculous!"

Miranda blinked in confusion before glancing helplessly over toward Gary. “You said I was  _vegan?_ Right, getting away from the point!” She reached behind her back to try and zip her dress back up. “Look, just give us a few minutes to get ourselves sorted and I’ll try and deal with Tilly.”

Stevie sighed in frustration and left, closing the door none too gently behind her.

After a sheepish apology for being a rubbish liar while helping zip her dress back up, they returned to the wedding.  Miranda was immediately whisked off by Tilly and Stevie, and Gary returned to their table.  The garter was still sitting where he had left it, taunting him, and he flicked it to the floor.  

The evening passed slowly for him.  He made small talk with a few people, but the bright spots were when Miranda was able to escape for a few moments and they could sneak in another dance.  He let his hands linger over her, still aching to finish what they had begun earlier.

It wasn’t enough that Tilly was being her pushy, overbearing self. It was that Miranda let her simply because she was too busy counting down the minutes until she could leave to care. By midnight things were finally winding down, and a rather tipsy Stevie called for a taxi. Her small blonde friend had taken advantage of the champers and was properly giggly.

The trip home was uneventful, only because Stevie had insisted on sitting between them so no dodgy business would happen. Miranda had at least the sense to look properly offended, but then again, with Gary looking as he did, with his tie gone and his hair still slightly messy from their interlude in the closet… she forced herself to keep her hands in her lap as Stevie chattered on about the wedding.

The taxi finally arrived in front of the shop, and they bid goodnight to Stevie.  Miranda went ahead of him to unlock the door.  Once they were inside, she continued to head up to the flat, but Gary grabbed her hand and pulled her into a kiss.

She was halfway across the room when he stopped her, and she fell into his arms without hesitation. She’d been dying to kiss him since they’d been interrupted and had only refrained from doing so the rest of the night because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop again. Now that they were safely locked away in the darkness of the shop, she responded with equal passion and enthusiasm, giggling softly as she did.

His hands slid up her back, all too eager to explore her body again after their interruption.  He pulled her tighter to him as he kissed her fiercely, desperately, his heart pounding with excitement.

He kissed her with such intensity that she actually felt her knees go weak and she held onto him for balance. She was still wearing those damned heels, and after a moment of precariously trying to remain upright in them whilst being kissed, she broke away from him, her breathing slightly laboured. With unrestrained glee she kicked off her heels, toes curling in relief as she dropped down slightly to her normal height.

"And balance is restored to the universe," she murmured happily, and leaned in to kiss him once again.

He chuckled slightly at her comment, smiling into their kiss.  His hand moved up to her face, thumb sliding over her cheek before weaving his fingers into her hair. The trek up the steps and to their flat suddenly seemed  _unnecessarily_ long.  He began to move towards the counter, taking care not to trip over her discarded shoes.

She was momentarily confused when they began moving away from the stairs and further into the shop, but she wasn’t about to stop kissing him to ask why. Instead she tightened her hold on him and let him lead the way.

When she felt her hip knock against the counter, her eyes opened slightly in surprise and she grinned suddenly. With one arm wrapped around his waist to anchor herself, she reached behind her to push everything off the counter; her hand felt paperwork and Stevie’s ridiculous furry pens and she heard it all scatter onto the ground, forgotten. All she cared about were his hands and his lips and how he was the only one who could make her feel this way.

He pinned her against the counter, his body pressed tightly against hers.  Slipping his hands out of her hair, he skimmed them lightly over her shoulders before reaching around behind her to unzip her dress.  He thought for a second that, the way the day had gone, this would be the moment when Stevie comes barging into the shop as well; but the thought was quickly shooed away by the smooth skin of her back.

The sound of the zip being undone caused her to feel the most thrilling of deja vus, only this one wasn’t followed by Stevie interrupting. Instead there was just the electric passion that had only been touched upon earlier in the closet. Now with nothing stopping them, it took over completely. Her hands pulled his shirttails from his trousers with an impatience and desperation that she rarely felt, and certainly not toward anyone other than him.

He hastily unhooked the clasp of her bra, his hands smoothing over her now naked back as she tugged at his shirt.  He pulled away just long enough to let everything drop to the floor.  The dim light flooding in from the street lamps shone against her skin, and he gazed at her, eyes roaming up and down her body, before diving back in.

She didn’t care that her dress was now on the floor in a crumpled heap, kicked aside as they undressed one another. As she reached for his trousers to undo the fasten, her lips traversing along his neck and shoulder, her eyes opened slowly and she stopped suddenly.

“Um, just… just give me a second,” she whispered, trying not to giggle as she gently pushed him off of her enough to slide out from against the counter. Quite aware that she was down to just her pants, and oh the shop was actually a bit chilly, wasn’t it, she hurried over to the kangaroo toy that was staring at the… action. Bit unsettling, she thought, now giggling outright as she turned it around to face the other direction. “Bit of privacy, please and thank you!” she said to it.

He laughed as he watched her converse with the kangaroo.  He wasn’t sure why this was an issue when her fruit friends had seen, well, quite a lot transpire in their kitchen, but perhaps their relationship was different. Neverthless, he wasn’t going to complain.  Her quirky conversations with inanimate objects were one of the many reasons he loved her, and, well, he was quite enjoying the view from this angle, as well.  Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and began pulling her back towards the counter, planting a kiss on her bare shoulder.

As soon as they stopped moving she spun in his arms to face him once more, no longer feeling the eyes of inanimate objects on her mostly-naked sweep. She pressed her lips to his as her hands eagerly moved down his chest back to his trousers to finish what she’d started. She still couldn’t believe they were doing this, but then again, if they hadn’t been interrupted before at the wedding… well, she couldn’t find it in her to be shy when things were moving so quickly and with so much heat between them.

He tried to help move things along by undoing the far-too-many buttons on his dress shirt, but his hands kept finding their way back to her, exploring the curves he already knew so well.  His trousers were soon kicked to the floor and he pulled her closer to him, their bare legs touching and only thin bits of fabric between them.

His hands seemed to be everywhere on her body; she gave up trying to get his shirt off and instead slid her hands up underneath it to touch his warm skin. Her hips pressed into his impatiently as she kissed along his jaw, sighing his name into his skin, fingers sliding downward to his boxer shorts. Her heart was racing with excitement and arousal, and with her kisses she was telling him: _I love you, I trust you, and I want you._

He gasped as her hand moved lower, his fingers reflexively digging into her back.  His head tilted back as his breath caught in his chest, the whole world reduced to her hands and her lips and her skin and just, her.  All of her.  He relaxed his grip on her back and slid his hands around to the front, clawing impatiently at her knickers.

At this point his arms around her were the only thing holding her upright; when he released her she shifted her weight back against the counter, her lips still leaving kisses over his neck and throat as her hands continued to undress him as best as she could. She just couldn’t bring herself to stop touching him in some way long enough to do a better job. Only part of her was surprised by how desperate she felt; she loved him more than anything, but how many of her fantasies had he been in? Enough for her to know that as much as she loved him, she’d always wanted him, too. And when they were like this — well, maybe not  _quite_  like this since shagging in the shop was definitely a first — it still took her breath away to know that he wanted her just as desperately.

His hand slipped between her legs.  He stroked her inner thigh gently with his thumb before curling his fingers up in a way he knew would elicit a moan.  He loved this, loved watching her react to his touch, loved that  _he_ was the one doing this, the one who made her feel this way.  

She moaned his name, her breath hot against his neck as she clutched at his back, fingers tightening around his now-wrinkled dress shirt. She wanted him so desperately it was taking every bit of her not to scream in frustration. After all of the flirting, the teasing, the lingering kisses and the heated looks, all it took was the slightest touch and her willpower crumbled.

He dragged his fingertips along her slowly, planting kisses along her bare shoulder.  His free arm was wrapped around behind her as he leaned into her, pressing her against the counter.  His fingers moved in achingly slow strokes, drawing out the last moments of teasing.

”You’re _impossible_ ,” she managed to get out between ragged gasps for air. Her fingers buried into his hair, her body arching against his hand. She took a moment to reflect on what was actually happening, what he was doing to her, and giggled quietly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about having  _shenanigans_  in here with you,” she confessed, and her giggle became a moan as his fingers continued to tease her.

Her confession surprised him, and his hand stilled for a moment.  ”Really?” he asked, his voice barely audible against her skin.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a few fantasies of his own (well, more than a few), but  for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that she had them, too.  And in the  _shop_  of all places.  Though, he did have that one in the kitchen that violated half a dozen health and safety standards, so he wasn’t one to talk.  He smirked.  ”Glad to help you fulfill your dreams,” he said with a small laugh, his hand moving again as he kissed his way up her neck.

She shuddered in his arms as his fingers resumed their slow pace, her own twisting into his hair and pulling gently. “This is infinitely better,” she got out before letting her eyes close and her head fall back, hips rocking impatiently against his hand. Every kiss, every touch just made her want him even more than she thought was even possible, but that was the one thing she would never change.

As much as he enjoyed teasing her, he was aching with anticipation and barely holding himself together, and her responses to his touch were compounding the issue.  He kissed along her collarbone as he pulled his hand away from her and grabbed her leg, pulling it up to his waist.  After he had positioned himself, he brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen into her face before reaching down to guide himself into her.

Her eyes flew open in surprise and then fluttered half closed with relief and pleasure as he slipped into her, and she loosened her grip on his hair only slightly, gently curling her hand around the back of his neck. She forced herself to steady her breathing but her heart was racing and her skin was on fire from his touch. 

It was fast and reckless and incredibly hot.  His fingers dug into her thigh and he buried his face into her neck and breathed her name against her skin.  His other hand gripped at the counter for stability, he wasn’t new to this sort of thing but the sound of her and the feel of her and the hours of anticipation had him feeling like he might melt into the floor.  

Their movements were fueled by desperation and urgency from being denied one another all night; even though it had only been a few short hours it had felt like an eternity, made worse by the fact that she hadn’t really wanted to be there at all. Stevie interrupting them had been like a bucket of ice water dumped on her, but now all she felt was heat and passion, warming her skin and causing her fingers to slip slightly against his back as she clutched at him.

The shop had been cold before but now his skin burned hot. Her hands were gliding across his skin and he kissed her between ragged breaths.  He was trying to hold on a bit longer but she overwhelmed him and he could already feel himself coming apart, threatening to burst open at the seams.

It was all a dizzying blur of ecstasy, their movements becoming more erratic. She was normally so in control — well, as in control as one could be in these sort of situations — but all she could do was wrap her arms tightly around him and moan into his kiss, her hips rolling over his, feeling his hand grip her thigh and knowing he was just as close as she was. 

He tumbled over the edge with a cry of her name, his entire body relaxing as the release washed over him.  His chest heaved as he let himself relax against her.

She could feel him shaking against her as she found her own release, everything rushing through her and stealing her breath away. She could feel their skin sticking together as she held him close, and when her eyes slid open all she could do was look at him, slightly stunned from what had just happened, but unable to stop smiling, her cheeks hot.

Dropping her leg, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly.  He was trying to catch his breath when he realized she was staring at him.  ”Hi,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking down to her lips.

She could still hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest, her skin still tingling from his touch. His rumpled dress shirt was the only scrap of clothing on either one of them, and they were in the shop of all places.

“Hi,” she whispered back, toying absently with one of the buttons on his shirt as she tried to find something to say, to find some way to describe what had just happened, but did she even need to? Instead, she flashed him a cheeky grin and then looked around at their surroundings, at the scattered clothes they’d left in their wake.

“Checking that off the bucket list, then.”

He laughed, tracing his fingers idly up and down her back.  ”Yeah.  Shame we weren’t able to knock off At A Wedding, too.”  He rested his head against hers, his whole body feeling warm and sleepy and satisfied.

"I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities," Miranda giggled, leaning into his touch and sighing happily. She was having so much more fun with him, and not just for the obvious reasons, than she had the entire night with everyone else. "We should go home, though. Can’t stay here, though the beanbag chairs  _are_  pretty comfortable.”

“Right,” he agreed, “of course.”  He kissed her temple before releasing her from his grasp.  A big, stupid grin was still plastered across his face as he began to gather his clothing from the floor.

She was careful to make sure she retrieved every last bit of clothing that had made its way around the shop; she didn’t want to leave behind any trace that anything suspicious had gone on for when Stevie opened the following morning. After rescuing her bra from where it was hanging off the kangaroo’s ear, she started to re-dress, but left the shoes behind in the bin without a second glance.

As he pulled his boxers back on, he couldn’t help catching the last glimpses of her before she was dressed again.  (Even though it would all be back off in just a few minutes.)  He came up behind her as she was about to clasp her bra and smoothed his hands over her back before hooking it for her.  ”Not sure why I’m helping you put clothes  _on_ ,” he teased.

"At least you’ll be able to say you’ve undressed me three times tonight?" she answered with a small laugh, smirking slightly as she shook out the wrinkles from her dress and slipped it on over her head. "I don’t know, surely that counts for something, even if it’s just bragging rights." She didn’t bother zipping up the back of her dress, just grabbed his hand in hers and hauled him towards the stairs.


	12. rained out

Gary did a quick check to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important as he prepared to leave the restaurant in Clive’s hands for the rest of the day.  Business was steady, and he found himself growing more confident of its ability to run without him there.  He was even able to go more than ten minutes without checking for texts when he was away.  (Well, usually.)

He slipped out the front door and headed towards the shop, planning to steal Miranda away for the afternoon.  Stevie was back from her holiday and he knew Miranda would jump at the opportunity to knock off for the rest of the day.

“Did you do  _any_  work at all while I was away?” Stevie was nagging Miranda, the tiny blonde attempting to look threatening with her hands on her hips.

“Rude! I take my job here very seriously. Even though it’s a joke shop,” Miranda insisted, and Stevie rolled her eyes.

“What did you even do while I was gone? Drooling over Gary doesn’t count.”

“I tidied, I sorted out new stock, I did… general… work-related… work.”

Stevie looked unconvinced, but Miranda really didn’t care that much. Stevie never stayed cross at her for very long, and she’d have everything sorted quickly. 

The door opened, and Miranda was relieved to see it was Gary. She grinned at him, forgetting about Stevie, who was now lecturing her about the whole recreating Jurassic Park with the dinosaur toys incident. Scarring to small children, yes, but it had been so funny!

“Hi!” she said cheerfully.

“Hi!” he replied, grinning back at her.  ”I’m off for the rest of the day if you want to take a walk or something…” his voice trailed off as he realized that Stevie was glaring at him.  She was fairly terrifying when she was cross.  ”I mean, unless you’re too busy,” he added, trying to appease her. _  
_

She looked to Stevie with pleading eyes. “Stevie, my lovely little best friend…”

Stevie’s glare softened only slightly. “Even if I refuse, you’ll still sneak out, won’t you?”

"Absolutely not. Well, there’s a small chance I might. And by that I mean as soon as you turn your back, I’ll be gone."

Stevie waved her hand in surrender. “Fine. I need to sort out all the accounts anyway.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Miranda shoved the paperwork into Stevie’s arms and skipped out from behind the counter to Gary’s side. She took his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

"A walk sounds lovely."

“Great,” he said. He waved goodbye to Stevie, who just rolled her eyes in reply, her mouth scrunched up as she tried to hold back a smile.

As they stepped outside, the chilly air pricked his skin and he was grateful that he had worn long sleeves. His thumb traced along the side of Miranda’s hand. “Should we go anywhere in particular?”

She gently squeezed his hand, smiling at how perfectly their fingers fit together. Bumping her shoulder gently against his as they walked down the pavement, she glanced skyward. Wasn’t summer supposed to be around the corner? Typical.

“Who says we need a destination?” she asked. “That wasn’t meant to be philosophical. I literally mean, let’s just see where we end up!” Okay, so maybe the idea was a bit mad, but there really wasn’t anything better than being out away from Stevie and the shop and just life in general, her lovely boyfriend by her side and a spring in her step.

“Sounds good,” he replied, looking over at her and smiling.  They settled into a pleasant silence, their clasped hands swinging gently between them.  As they walked, Gary kept stealing glances at her, looking forward just often enough to make sure they didn’t collide with anything.    

He could still hardly believe his life sometimes, especially compared to the start of the year, when he was stressed to his limit about purchasing the restaurant and scared he might be losing Miranda forever.  But here they were, her hand warm in his, with nothing to worry about and nowhere to be but with each other.

Though at this point they’d been together for over four months — how exciting! — she still couldn’t get entirely used to the quiet moments. Maybe it was because they’d had their fair share of awkward silences, heavy with the sexual tension, for so long. Sometimes she felt like there were still things that needed to be said, but then he’d look at her or kiss her and it never seemed that important. 

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realise they had entered the park. With a grin she realised this was the same park they’d had to shake off a clingy Stevie and an even nosier Penny and Tilly in their earlier attempts at romance. 

As they made their way along the path that wound through the park, Gary was struck with an idea.  Right when they passed a small clearing, he tugged on Miranda’s hand.  ”Come on,” he said quietly, and pulled her aside, positioning them behind a large bush and out of view from the rest of the park.

She eagerly followed, giggling quietly as they moved out of sight. “Is it just me, or are we experiencing some serious deja vu here. I never took you for nostalgic,” she teased him gently.

“I wouldn’t say it’s nostalgia,” he replied, “I just really wanted to do this…”  He cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes for a moment before leaning in to kiss her.

As her arms settled around his waist, hugging him to her, she let her eyes close and relaxed into the kiss, sighing contently as she did. She’d never tire of this, of being able to kiss him whenever she wanted to, of the feel of his lips on her own, how she still got butterflies when they touched. And even though she felt that lovely thrill all the way down to her toes, she felt so comfortable being close to him.

His hand slid into her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss.  Even though kissing her was familiar now, he still found himself trying to memorize every part of it, the taste of her lips and the feel of her body pressed against his.  Despite her reassurances, a part of him still worried that this all might slip away, so he lingered each kiss a bit longer, stretching out each moment they had together.

It was easy to lose herself when they kissed; nothing seemed pressing or urgent in the safety of his arms. As she squeezed him gently and smiled, lips curving upward against his, she felt something cold at the back of her neck and flinched slightly. She ignored it and dove back in for another kiss, gently nipping at his lower lip with her teeth as she did, and with a twitch of annoyance felt it again.

Her eyes reluctantly opened and she realised it was starting to rain. Just a slight sprinkle, nothing to worry about, but still: rude!

Gary flicked his eyes skyward and noticed dark clouds starting to roll in. Though the rain was just a drizzle, it was dampening his shirt and hair, and the chill in the air made him shiver.  His arms had worked their way down around Miranda’s waist, and he pulled her tighter to him, nuzzling into the curve of her neck as he did.

Feeling him shiver, she hugged him that bit more tightly and felt the warmth throughout her body despite the rain. 

"That black cloud looks entirely too eager to ruin our walk," she observed, letting go of him with one hand to catch a few raindrops in her palm. "I think it’s going to storm. Shame." Even as she felt the chill at the back of her neck, the rest of her was wrapped up in his arms and she felt warm and safe there.

“Yeah, it’s too bad.”  His fingers stroked lines lightly up her back as he spoke.  ”We could head back to the flat,” he suggested, “though you might have trouble sneaking past Stevie.”  He kissed her neck lightly.  ”Or we could duck into a shop and wait for the storm to pass.”

She grinned at him, laughing at Stevie’s inevitable reaction even as the rain began to fall more heavily. “It’s a bit hard to sneak anywhere when you’re six foot,” she reminded him; when she shivered slightly she knew it had little to do with the weather and everything to do with the soft touch of his lips on her skin. She blinked raindrops from her eyelashes. “C’mon, we’ll catch our deaths if we stay out here!”

He gave her waist a gentle squeeze before letting her go.   The rain was already beginning to stick his clothing to his skin; they would be completely soaked through by the time they reached the flat.  Linking his arm with hers, he replied, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

As they retraced their steps back through the park, she could feel the wet grass squishing under her trainers. Suddenly she felt her foot slip and she fell rather spectacularly onto the ground, landing hard on her bottom. Embarrassed, soaked to the bone, and with what would probably be quite the bruise, she huffed in annoyance up at the sky.

"Wish I could say that’s the first time that’s happened."

Her fall happened so quickly that it took him by surprise, she was already on the ground before he could try to catch her.  His brow furrowed in concern as he reached down to help her up.  ”You alright?”

Miranda gingerly got to her feet. “Just a long way to fall, isn’t it?” She grinned at him, still feeling slightly sheepish about her lack of gracefulness. “I’m fine! Don’t worry so much, you nut.” 

“You sure?” he asked, still looking concernedly at her.  He cupped his hand on her damp hair, letting it slide down slowly towards her neck.  ”You don’t want me to carry you or something?” He was half-kidding, but it might make the walk back (in what was quickly becoming a downpour) a bit more fun.

She blushed at the idea; though she’d never forget how dashing he looked dressed as Mr. Darcy at the disastrous party her mother had thrown, perhaps he was also the Colonel Brandon to her Marianne Dashwood. Fighting the urge to use her hand to fan herself at the very thought, Miranda giggled. “I couldn’t possibly refuse.”

He smiled at her, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss on the forehead before crouching down.  ”Well, come on,” he said, gesturing for her to climb on his back.

Being careful not to trip again, she carefully climbed onto his back, still giggling slightly. “And who says chivalry’s dead?” she laughed, holding tightly onto him. “Just don’t take a tumble yourself, or we’re both going down.” She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

His face flushed slightly as he felt her lips brush against his cheek.  ”I’ll do my best,” he said, standing up carefully and finding his balance.  The ground was slick beneath his feet and he took a few careful, tentative steps, making sure that this was, in fact, a good idea.  Once he was sure he wasn’t going to slip, he walked a bit more quickly towards the park entrance, his feet kicking up rainwater along the way.

Despite his confidence, she was a bit nervous as they made their way along the trail. Never mind that it was a rather long way down to the ground if he dropped her — which she knew he never would — but she wasn’t exactly light as feather. Unlike Stevie, who weighed something like half a stone, and Miranda had carried her home from the club on more than one night back in uni. She pressed her cheek gently against the back of his head as they walked, feeling the rain sliding down the back of her neck as she did.

He gave Miranda’s legs an affectionate squeeze as she leaned on him.  The rain dripped down out of his hair and into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, unable to wipe it away.  They made their way out of the park, weaving around the pond-like puddles that were forming.  

They were attracting a bit of attention as they left the park and continued down the pavement back towards the shop. She caught a few people looking oddly at them from under their far more sensible but completely boring umbrellas, and she grinned at them happily and tightened her arms around Gary’s shoulders to get a better grip. They were positively drenched with rain and the chill was beginning to set in; she was already dreaming of the lovely hot shower she’d jump into back at the flat.

They finally made it to the shop, though not without a few puddle incidents, the bottom half of his trousers nowsopping wet.  Eager to get inside somewhere warm, he didn’t stop to let Miranda down outside, but flung the door open instead.  ”Watch your head,” he warned her.

She ducked her head down just in the nick of time, barely clearing the height of the doorframe as they entered the shop. The bell above it hit her in the face, and the jingling sound alerted Stevie to their presence.

"What on earth is happening please and thank you?" she demanded. "You’re a mess! And why are you on his back like some sort of waterlogged sloth?"

"Slipped and fell," Miranda mumbled, then pointed towards the stairs. "Going up to the flat unless you want us to drip all over your beach display."

Stevie was already reaching for one of the striped beach towels to try and mop up the water they’d brought in. “Out, out!” she huffed in annoyance.

“ _Alright_ , we’re going!” Gary retorted as he hustled across the shop, shoes squeaking on the wood floor.  He took to the steps as quickly as he could manage, desperate to change out of his wet clothes.  He stopped outside the door of their flat and bent down to let Miranda off.

Her dismount was as graceful as one could manage under the circumstances, and she laughed as she pulled her keys from the pocket of her jumper. Unlocking the front door, she hurried inside and immediately pulled it off, shivering slightly as the cool air of the flat hit her wet skin.

“Right, hot shower, won’t be long,” she promised as she kissed him on the cheek. Really she just needed to warm up, but she knew he did too and gave herself a five minute time limit as she made a dash for the bathroom.

“Now hold on a minute,” he said, following her and jamming his foot in the door so she couldn’t close it.  ”You’re going to leave me out here to freeze all by myself?”  He shot her as sad a look as he could manage, chattering his teeth a bit for effect.

She blushed slightly as she considered her options; showering together was the one thing they hadn’t done in the four months they’d been together, only because she’d insisted it was too dangerous. She was clumsy and prone to falling over — as her wipeout in the park had proven — and he was entirely too free with where his hands landed. Add the two together and it was a recipe for disaster.

Still, they were both cold, and so long as they established some ground rules…

She held the door open so he could move past her. “Fine, but this is  _strictly_  about saving water,” she teased him with a grin.

“Of course,” he agreed as he began to peel of his wet clothing, though he knew he had a few ulterior motives for wanting to join her.  He turned on the shower to let the water heat up, catching a glimpse of Miranda out of the corner of his eye.  He was already tempted to reach over to her, but restrained himself.  He wasn’t willing to risk being shooed out of the room quite yet.

She quickly undressed, tossing their clothes into the laundry bin while they waited for the water to heat up. She wrapped her arms around herself to fight off the chill and tried to keep her eyes forward.

When she could bear it no longer, she tested the water and found it the perfect temperature, and she gleefully jumped into the shower under the spray of hot water. Immediately she felt the chill on her bare skin melt away and she sighed happily.

Gary followed her into the shower, but was dismayed to realize that if he kept a respectable distance, the water would only hit his feet.  Shifting a bit from foot to foot, he tried to wait his turn, but quickly gave up. He scooted closer to her, trying to get under the stream.

When she turned towards him, he was closer than he had been a moment ago and she jumped slightly in surprise, giggling nervously. Her feet slipped and she grabbed onto his shoulders to stay upright. “I’m risking life and limb here!” she joked, making sure she had her footing before pulling him closer to her until they were both under the water. “Better?”

He closed his eyes in relief as the water poured over him, warming him up nicely.  ”Much better,” he said pleasantly, smiling as he slipped his arms around her waist, his hands gliding over her slick skin.

“Oi, hands!” she giggled, splashing water at him. “You’ll have to spot for me just in case I fall, which is  _very_  likely to happen. I’m not actually an Olympic gymnast, you know. That was a lie,” she admitted, grinning.

“Really?” he teased, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. “I never would have guessed.”  He slid his hands down lower over her backside and pulled her closer.  ”Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said with a mischevious grin.

She wiped the water out of her eyes with one hand while clutching at his shoulder with the other for balance. “You are  _terrible_ ,” she laughed, her skin flushed for reasons other than the hot water.

“I’m just concerned for your safety,” he said innocently, giving her a slight squeeze before giggling lightly under his breath.

“You’re a crap liar,” Miranda replied, splashing him again before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Mm, but isn’t the point of a shower to get clean? You are treading on dangerous ground here,  _darling_ ,” she teased him.

“Well,” he began sliding one of his hands over her hip, “I personally think showers can have  _many_ purposes.” His fingertips traced lightly over her thigh and came to a halt right before they reached between her legs.  He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled devilishly, his breath catching in his throat.

That look in his eyes made her swallow slightly with nervous anticipation. “If I fall and get a concussion, this is going to be very embarrassing and not to mention disappointing.” Nonetheless, she was beginning to see the merits of shower shenanigans, as it were. Smiling at him through the steam swirling around them, she leaned in and kissed him again.

He wrapped his other arm tightly around her waist as they kissed, a trip to A&E  _would_  ruin an otherwise lovely afternoon.  Once he was sure he had a good hold of her, he slipped his hand between her legs, his fingertips tracing in achingly slow circles against her.

She felt her knees buckle slightly but his arm around her kept her steady; even so she tightened her grip on his shoulder to right herself before letting her hand smooth over the wet skin of his back. He was being infuriatingly coy for some reason, but she was too busy trying to coordinate her kisses and avoiding drowning under the water at the same time to protest. Instead she just pulled him closer to her and pressed herself insistently against his hand, her fingers sliding into his tangled hair.

 His fingers sped up as she pressed against him.  He wanted to let his other hand wander over her body, to trace over her curves, but he kept his arm steady and strong around her.  Instead, he trailed kisses along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, his lips following the rivulets of water that slid along her skin.

Everything else in the world slipped away until all she could focus on was him: his lips against her skin, his fingers touching her so surely and perfectly because he knew her so well, so intimately. The slide of her wet skin against his, (which —  _frictiontastic_ ) and the way his arm around her waist made her feel like maybe she’d survive this encounter without loss of limb.

With those lovely thoughts, she felt herself finally relax, trusting him completely and letting him continue to push her towards the edge, her hand still buried in his hair as he kissed over her neck.

He pulled back so he could watch her as she responded to his touch, peering at her through half-open eyes, water dripping heavily off his eyelashes.  Her response was fueling his own arousal and he gasped quietly under his breath, leaning into her.

With a cry of his name, she slipped over the edge, grasping frantically at him and burying her head into his neck, her voice muffled against his heated skin. She was so caught up in the sensations flooding through her that she forgot about falling entirely.

Her eyes fluttering sleepily open, she felt the steady beat of the water against her upper back and his arms around her.

 

He smiled and kissed her neck lightly as she nuzzled against him.  The water was starting to run lukewarm and he squeezed her waist tightly, feeling her breath feather against his skin.

Her smile was sleepy and satisfied and maybe just a bit cheeky as she lay her head down on his shoulder. “Lovely,” she sighed, trailing her fingers up his back. “I see the appeal now. And it’s… very appealing.” She giggled softly and then shivered slightly, the water temperature steadily dropping the longer they stayed tangled together. “The water bill this month will be astronomical.”

“Worth it, though?” he laughed, reluctantly releasing her and reaching over to turn off the faucet before they froze.   His damp skin gave him a chill and he shuddered involuntarily.  ”Still a bit cold,” he said, frowning slightly.

She snuggled closer to him to try and keep him warm. “It’s like we’re in the Arctic suddenly, isn’t it? Worst part of a shower, really: having to get out.” She gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll warm you up, don’t you worry,” she teased him before hopping out of the shower and squealing as the cold air hit her wet skin as she grabbed some towels for them.

She wrapped herself up in one before giving him his. “I just risked potential hypothermia for you. Now  _that’s_  love,” she said dramatically, giggling.

He laughed, toweling off a bit before leaning into her and kissing her on the cheek.  Wrapping the towel around him, he slipped out the door and wandered across the kitchen and into their bedroom.  He had intended to get dressed into dry clothes, but when he looked at their bed, cozy and inviting with its pillows and rumpled sheets, he changed his mind.  Dropping the towel to the floor, he climbed into bed, wrapping himself in the duvet.

Working a second towel through her hair to dry it as best as she could, she didn’t notice he’d left the bathroom until she’d finished. Skipping through the kitchen to their bedroom, she grinned when she saw he’d gotten right back into bed. Well, if they were going to knock off work, the whole point was to relax, wasn’t it?

She could see the rain still falling through the bedroom window, and she was glad they weren’t still out in it. She walked over to the bed and climbed on. “Budge over,” she teased him. “And you  _are_ going to share the duvet, right?”

"I guess I could," he said with a grin as he draped it over her, enveloping them in warmth.  He traced his finger over her skin, especially soft from the shower, and rested his head on her shoulder, listening to the rain clattering against the roof overhead.

Miranda grinned as she burrowed under the warm duvet and wrapped her arms around him, sinking into the pillows as she did. For a while she lost herself in the sounds of the rain, the distant hum of traffic on the road, and their soft breathing.

"Well, rain aside, this ended up being quite lovely," she sighed, interrupting the comfortable silence.

He murmured in agreement, his fingers moving up to graze lightly over her breasts.  He would be content to lay like this with her for ages, tangled lazily together.  It was almost strange, how easily he slipped into this dozy happiness.  He had always been erratic, and a bit impulsive, always looking for another new thing to move on to.  Even when he had made an effort to settle down, it was only a few months before he jetted off again.  But these last few months, he felt himself slow down for once.  When he was with her, he didn’t feel the constant need to run to something (or from something.)  He could stop, and he could rest, and he could just be with her.  His hand stilled against her chest, and he could feel her slow, steady heartbeat against his palm.

Her fingers gently drifted over his back and into his hair, absently running through it as she turned her head to look out the window at the falling rain for a moment, the sky cold and grey and a sharp contrast to how warm and content she felt. She could feel his hand over her heart and she grinned, because she’d given it to him ages ago. Long before they’d ever sorted out the madness between them and started a serious relationship.

"Did you ever think…" she began, her voice quiet in the stillness of the room, in the intimacy of the moment. "I mean, did you ever wonder… if we’d ever end up like this? Did you ever believe it would actually happen, that we’d be able to move past the absolute craziness that was our what-I-call drama and sort ourselves out?" It was a loaded question, and she idly hoped it wouldn’t freak him out. "I dunno, I’m just asking because… we finally got it right, didn’t we? And I suppose that’s what’s important in the end."

He thought for a moment, his thumb stroking her skin gently.  ”I think…” he paused, the words he was looking for still buzzing around aimlessly in his head.  He wanted to tell her that he always knew for sure that they’d end up together.  It was the sort of grand, romantic sentiment she deserved.  But it wasn’t the truth, not quite, and he knew that’s what she wanted.  ”For a long time, it seemed like we just weren’t meant to be.  Everything was always going sideways between us, and I tried to tell myself that maybe we really better off just being friends.  But I think, in the back of my mind, I always hoped…” he trailed off, unsure of what else to say.  Tilting his head, he looked up at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

For a long moment she didn’t say anything, choosing to think about what he’d just admitted to her. Despite being together for so long now, they’d never really talked about their relationship that much at all. Maybe it was because they’d been friends for so long before dating that they’d slipped into it without even trying. Hearing that he felt similar to how she had made her feel like they really were on the same page.

She gave a small laugh as his eyes met hers. “Sideways is an understatement. We were absolute rubbish at figuring it out. Oh, but trying to be friends when all I wanted to do was throw you down on my sofa and kiss you? You were a true test of my patience, sir,” she teased him gently, her fingers lightly skidding over the back of his neck.

He laughed softly.  ”Just friends didn’t stop you from feeling me up from time to time,” he teased back, nudging her with his shoulder.  ”And I will point out that I was a complete gentleman when it came to that.  Which is part of the reason I can’t keep my hands off you now,” he said, letting his hand slide away from her heart and down her body.

Miranda giggled and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, really? A perfect gentleman? I’ve got your number, Gary Preston. Let’s not even talk about the whole ‘oh let’s show Miranda how to properly put marizpan on a cake’ moment clearly ripped from  _Ghost_. Which I will only admit I’ve seen because Stevie made me watch it.” She tapped him playfully on the nose with her finger. “But there is absolutely no need to be a gentleman around me now, so long as you don’t mind me not being much of a lady.”

"Is that so?" He sat up, leaning in towards her so their noses were nearly touching.  He smiled at her mischeviously, squeezing her hip.  "But I will have you know that your marzipan technique was  _awful._ I couldn’t just let you continue like that.” _  
_

"Oh, don’t get me wrong. The hands-on instruction was appreciated. _Very_  appreciated,” she continued, grinning up at him as her fingers gently wove into the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I don’t believe for a second that you weren’t just looking for an excuse. You’re a rubbish liar.”

He shrugged.  ”You caught me,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss her.  

"Quite a catch," she murmured in reply as she moved to meet him, curling her free arm over his naked waist and pulling him close to her, softly sighing as she felt warm skin against her own.

He closed his eyes as their lips brushed, relaxing into her arms.  His hand traced gently along her back as they kissed, only aware of the two of them and the steady rhythm of rain outside.  But even that faded away as they tangled together, their kisses still slow and sweet.

If only they could spend every afternoon like this, she thought to herself as her legs tangled with his under the covers, her fingertips lightly moving down his back. With entirely nothing planned beyond this little session of snogging, she felt truly relaxed and content for the first time in ages.

When they eventually pulled apart, he brought his hand up to her cheek, stroking it gently.  He smiled at her, their faces still close enough that he could feel her breath as she exhaled. “I love you,” he breathed, barely audible, his eyes locking with hers.

"I love you, too, you ridiculous nut," she teased him softly, clasping her hands behind his neck and holding his gaze. Sometimes, when he looked at her like that, she felt as though those three words were the most honest thing he’d ever said to her. Very rarely did he tell her what he was thinking or feeling, and though she was often desperate to know she knew it simply wasn’t his personality. But when he said ‘I love you’ to her, it never felt flippant or automatic. When he said ‘I love you’ it meant something. Perhaps that was why she’d been longing to hear it for so many years.

Her eyes briefly flicked down to his lips before she caught herself. “So, shall we stay put? It is, after all, our afternoon off.”

"Sounds perfect," he replied, nestling down into the pillows.  His hand slid down the curve of her neck as he relaxed.  Dim light filtered in through the curtains and glanced off her skin, and he was struck for a moment by how beautiful she was, with her eyes sparkling at him and her lips quirked into a smile.

Her fingertips softly brushed over the back of his neck as she smiled sleepily up at him. Their bedroom was quiet but for the sounds of their breathing and the rain falling outside, and before long the even rhythm was lulling her to sleep, her arms still around him. 

He watched her eyes flutter closed through his own heavy lids, his thoughts swirling in a sleepy haze.  His mind always seemed to run through to-do lists as he drifted off, restaurant plans and reminders to call Mum.  But another thought slipped in among the rest: the two of them, laying just as they were, but with graying hair and wrinkled skin.  It dissipated quickly, absorbed into his muddled thoughts as sleep overtook him.   


	13. tension

"So, when are you going to propose?"

"I’m sorry?" Gary had been sprawled across the bed, having his monthly chat with his mum for the last half hour, but now he sat bolt upright.  

"I said, when are you going to propose?  You two have been living together for months now, I think it’s about time."

He was pacing the room, now, trying to think of a way to change the subject.  His mum hadn’t mentioned marriage to him in years, not since he’d moved back to Surrey, and he didn’t know why she was bringing it up now.  ”That’s not…” he paused, “Um, how are Jodie and Margaret?”  He winced, knowing he had given himself away.  He stepped out into the kitchen, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear.

"Now I know you’re hiding something," she replied, her voice shifting from light and teasing to slightly concerned, “The last thing you want to hear about are my friends.  What’s going on?   _Did_ you propose? _”_

Gary sighed heavily, there was no way of backing out of this now.  He was about to launch into the story when he looked up and realized Miranda was also in the room.  She had gone down to check on the shop earlier, and he hadn’t heard her come back in.  The last thing he wanted to do was replay one of the most painful moments of their relationship within her earshot.  ”Um, hold on one second?” he said, turning around to return to the bedroom.

Miranda was slightly puzzled when the door to their bedroom closed, but shook it off and went back to her book. It had been a fairly quiet evening, just the way she liked it. She’d worked the morning at the shop and now Stevie was in charge, which probably meant lots of tea and her Heather Small puppet — suspicions that were confirmed when Miranda had sneaked downstairs to check. And Stevie had the audacity to say  _she_  never got any work done?

She hadn’t heard much of the conversation between Gary and his mum, though he’d sounded a bit out of sorts. She knew better than to worry about him, but her role as wonderful, caring girlfriend sort of required that she fret just a bit.

Still, it was clearly a private conversation, so she curled up on the sofa and tried to focus on her book once more.

Once the bedroom door was closed behind him, he started in on the story, how he had almost lost her, and when he was finally able to tell her how he felt, her ex came back and  _proposed._   In front of everyone.  And he panicked and proposed too.  Because, well, what else was he supposed to do?  

"Anything but that would have worked, probably."

“ _Mum.”_

 _“_ Oh, hush, it’s something the two of you can laugh about now.”

"No, it’s not," he clipped.  It still made him feel ill, honestly.

"Well, anyway, that’s all in the past now.  You should try again, maybe this time she won’t flee the country."

She was just teasing him, he knew, but he still wanted to chuck the phone across the room.  ”Mum, please stop.”

"Well, whenever you’re ready," she said, “But I’m not getting any younger, you know…"

"Why are you even on about this again?  You haven’t brought up marriage in years."

"Because you were with Miranda!  The moment you two started talking again I knew it was just a matter of time.  She’s all you talked about once you moved back to Surrey.  Though I thought it would be a bit quicker than, what, three years?"

He sighed, frustrated, wishing she would just leave it.  ”I don’t even think she  _wants_  to get married,” he insisted, which wasn’t strictly true.  She had mentioned not being in a rush once, but they had successfully avoided the subject otherwise.

His mother didn’t sound terribly convinced by this, but he managed to get off the phone with her shortly after.  He threw the phone down on the bed in frustration and stalked into the kitchen to find something to bake.

Miranda shot up off the sofa at the clatter in the kitchen; she tossed her book aside as she bounced over to the kitchen and grinned at him. “How’s your mum?” she asked curiously.

"She’s alright," he responded quickly as he rummaged through the refrigerator. His mind was still racing from the conversation and he didn’t particularly want to talk at the moment.  He found some blueberries hidden behind the milk, and pulled them out.  Muffins it was.  He set them up on the counter and tried not to look at her as he rounded up the other ingredients. 

Miranda frowned slightly; she liked to think she knew her boyfriend well enough and when he randomly started baking, it meant he was stressed. Since he hadn’t been stressed an hour ago, it was clear the phone call had started something.

Worried, she crossed the kitchen to his side and caught his arm as he was assembling the ingredients for whatever it was he was putting together.

"Um, everything okay? You’re baking on a Wednesday night," she said carefully, fingers lightly stroking his arm as she noticed he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

"Everything’s fine," he said, “Just in the mood for muffins."  Her fingers were grazing across his skin, and normally it would have calmed him down, but now it was just reminding him of, well, everything.  He glanced over at her briefly and plastered a smile over his face.  "Are you complaining about fresh muffins?" he tried to tease her, but it came out more harshly than he meant it.

She let her hand slide off of his arm as she regarded him with slight suspicion. He really was a rubbish liar; that much hadn’t changed at all since back at uni. 

"Um, no! You know I love muffins, especially blueberry," she replied, still slightly unsettled. Normally he was completely at ease and relaxed in the kitchen — after all it was where he thrived — but right now he looked anything but.

"I’ll leave you to it, then," she said to him, pecking him quickly on the cheek. "And, um, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. Obligatory girlfriend duties and all, though I certainly never minded before when we were just friends. Promise me you’d tell me if you’re upset?"

He gulped.  ”Yeah,” he said quietly.  He felt awful, lying to her directly like that, but he didn’t feel like he had a choice.  He didn’t want to worry her with his problems, and certainly not  _this_ problem. Even though she had forgiven him, he still worried that if they brought it up again, she’d remember what an idiot he was and…

He frowned at the mixing bowl, realizing he had dumped twice as much sugar in as he was supposed to.  With a groan, he took the bowl over to the sink and dumped it out, muttering under his breath about not paying attention.

In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him botch a recipe before. More than anything that convinced her that he absolutely wasn’t okay. She reached for the bowl and gently but firmly took it from him, setting it down out of the way.

"Okay, out with it. What on earth has gotten into you? You’re grumpy, you won’t look at me, and you just ruined a batch of muffins. This isn’t you. What’s going on?"

"It’s nothing," he snapped at her, stepping away.  "Can you please just leave it?"  He was getting angry now, the ruined muffins adding to his frustration.  He didn’t understand why she couldn’t just let him sulk in peace.

She flinched when he snapped at her. “Okay,” she said quietly, and moved out of the way.

She sat down at the kitchen table and watched him move around the kitchen. The silence in the air was thick and… tense. And not the exciting yet frustrating sexual tension of before. This was nervous tension, uncomfortable tension, brought on by two people who desperately need to talk but can’t bring themselves to do so.

Finally, she’d had enough. “You know what, it’s actually not okay. We used to tell one another _everything._ We didn’t lie to one another and we never kept secrets. And now that we’re together… sometimes I don’t have any idea what you want or how you’re feeling.”

"What I  _want_  is for you to just drop it,” he said, turning around to face her, his voice growing angrier and louder with every word.  ”This just isn’t something I want to talk about, and you prying isn’t going to help!”  

She rose from her chair, frustrated. “Fine. Then I won’t talk to you.” As she began to storm off to the bedroom, she couldn’t help but get in the last word: “You’re being an idiot right now. And I’m  _not_  saying it with affection. You actually are.” She let the door close none-too-gently behind her and sat down angrily on the bed, still smarting from their fight.

He leaned against the counter, sighing heavily.  She was right, he  _was_  being an idiot.  He knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth, and he felt like he was confirming his own fears about their relationship.  

He crossed the room quickly, and knocked lightly on their bedroom door.

It wasn’t even five minutes before she heard him knock, and she carefully unraveled herself from the duvet cocoon she’d wrapped herself in.

"It’s open," she said with a sigh, nervously fidgeting with the corner of the duvet.

He cracked the door open slowly, poking his head in the room.  ”Hi,” he said gently.  He hadn’t actually figured out what he was going to say yet, so he sat down on the side of the bed, tentatively placing his hand on her leg.  ”I’m sorry.”  Well, it was a start, at least.

She bit her lip slightly before exhaling and nodding. “Me too. I shouldn’t have pressed. I just really hate seeing you miserable, and if I thought there was something I could do to help…” Her hand gently covered his on her leg. “But I suppose I need to work on my approach there.” She offered him a small smile.

"It’s alright," he said, his shoulders relaxing with relief.  "And I know I shouldn’t keep things from you.  It’s just…" he trailed off, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to find his words.  "I didn’t want to upset you.  Which clearly backfired.  But things are going so well with us, and I didn’t want to stir things up…" He went silent, realizing he might have said a bit too much.

She entwined their fingers together as he spoke. “Things between us are wonderful, which is why you need to stop worrying that something’s going to go wrong. Because even if it does, we’ll figure it out. Tonight would be a pretty good example of that,” she added with a soft chuckle. “Things are bound to get stirred up regardless. Hello, it’s the two of us. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

He laughed quietly as he moved closer to her.  ”Yeah, we are.”  He let his free hand trace idly up and down her arm.  The tension between them was dissipating, and he knew he needed to tell her about the phone call to dispel the last bits of it, but he couldn’t get the words out.  Instead, he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.

Her breath caught in her throat slightly when he kissed her; she felt the emotion bubbling in her heart and gently stroked his cheek with her other hand. Of course she’d forgiven him; she always did. And this was hardly anything compared to the fights they had before. All caused by them not communicating with one another proper. It was bound to happen again. She gently pulled away after a moment, her fingers still lightly brushing against his jaw.

"I love you," she said quietly, her voice breaking slightly.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, his eyes glistening.  He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.  Taking a deep breath, he blurted out, "Mum was asking me when I was going to propose to you."

Miranda froze for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Immediately she remembered that day, the day they hadn’t really talked about or acknowledged in any way since it had happened. It had been swept into a corner, maybe not completely forgotten but at the very least ignored. 

"Oh. Um, well I suppose my mum isn’t the only one without any sense of patience whatsoever. Really, not everyone rushes to the altar after only being together for a few months…" She at least understood now why he’d been so reluctant to bring up the subject. "I’m guessing you told her, then?"

He wanted desperately to kiss her again, to cut the conversation short and lose himself in something familiar and good, but he made himself continue.  ”Yeah, the whole story,” he replied, “and she responded by telling me to  _try again._ "  He laughed bitterly under his breath, still frustrated by how that whole conversation had gone.

She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she listened to him. Even though they hadn’t talked about it she knew he was still hung up on what had happened and clearly it still had some sort of hold on him.

"You’ve got to let that go," she started, choosing her words carefully. “I understand why you did it and I’ve forgiven you for it. Please believe me when I tell you that, okay? You’ve got to trust me on this, or else we’re never going to get anywhere." She leaned in and gently wrapped her arms around him.

He slipped his arms around her waist and rested his head against her shoulder.  ”Sorry,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against the fabric of her shirt.  ”I know you have.” Her words were beginning to sink in, and he was finally able to let himself believe it.

She glanced down at him, her smile softening with affection though he couldn’t see it. “And if we’re being completely honest with one another here… well, at the risk of having you pull a ‘me’ and flee the country in terror…” She took a quiet breath to steady herself. “I suppose I always thought… well, I always thought I knew what I wanted, but people can change their minds, right? And so if we were ever in that place where it felt like it was for the  _right_  reasons, then…” Oh god, this was terrifying, but he’d given her that brief glimpse of his heart and now she knew she could do the same. 

"Well, my answer would be very different than the last time."

His heart picked up speed slightly, and he squeezed her waist tighter.  ”Yeah?” he whispered, breaking out into a grin against her shoulder.  The idea of marriage still frightened him.  But the fact that she would want to marry him filled him with such happiness that he had to choke down a laugh.

She could feel him smiling against her and her heart fluttered with happiness. Part of her had expected him to be spooked by her confession. “Yeah,” she replied shyly. “After all, we made an agreement. We have until 55 to find the one. I’m still waiting for him to show up,” she teased him. “Only joking.” She tightened her arms around him and closed her eyes.

"Hey," he protested with a laugh, playfully jabbing her in the side with his finger.  "I’ll have to fight him off, then."  He planted a kiss firmly on her cheek, then leaned his head against hers, smiling.  "Can’t let you get away," he added softly.

"Oh, I don’t know, the idea of you fighting someone to win my heart is pretty exciting," she replied, draping her arms over his shoulders and letting her fingers gently slide into his hair. “But I’m not into running, so I think I’m happy just staying right here."

"Good."  He leaned over, pulling her down with him so they landed on their sides, sprawling across the bed.  His legs intertwined with hers and he leaned in to kiss her quickly on the lips.

When he leaned in to kiss her she pulled him closer, her lips lingering on his for a moment longer. The tension that had hung around them like a dark cloud was completely gone, much to her relief.

"Well, we survived our first fight," she said with a sheepish smile, her face still close enough that her nose gently touched his. “Though I rather like the making up part better."

"Much better," he agreed.  His hand trailed lightly along her body, smoothing along the fabric of her shirt.  He stole another quick kiss from her lips before lightly hooking his fingers under the hem of her trousers. “There’s one part we haven’t gotten to yet, though," he added, smirking at her.

She grinned back at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as she cottoned on to what he was implying. Pushing him onto his back, she leaned over him and started to unbutton his shirt. “We need to fight more often,” was the last thing she said, flashing him a playful smirk of her own before kissing him once more.


	14. good morning

When it came to the art of seduction, Miranda felt a little out of her element. It wasn’t like an actual art class where you learned all about it, although to be fair in the last art class she’d attended it had ended the same way — nudity. And that was the whole point in the end, wasn’t it?

Still, when the texts she’d received from Gary indicated he’d been having a bit of a stressful day, she put her plan into motion. Candles were a safety hazard, she’d discovered, so instead she lowered the lights in the bedroom until they evoked ‘take me now.’ Granted, she wasn’t sure that would be his actual reaction; for all she knew he’d find the idea of her seducing him entirely too laughable, but she stomped on that thought quickly. Even if she didn’t believe it sometimes, her lovely boyfriend did find her attractive.

Stifling a yawn with her hand, she quickly undressed, tossing her laundry in the bin before climbing onto the bed and settling herself against the pillows. She couldn’t settle on what pose to go for, and quickly became distracted by her imagining his reaction to each of them. She forced her hands down to her sides and remind herself it would be much more fun if she waited.  
So she did. Until her eyes could no longer stay open and she nodded off, slipping into a light sleep as the minutes ticked by.

Gary left the restaurant much later than he would have liked, and was eager to get home to Miranda. She usually tried to wait up for him, but he often found her curled up on the sofa fast asleep, the telly still blaring a late night program, or a book falling out of her hands. The flat was dark, though, when he opened the door, apart from a faint glow coming from their bedroom. His eyes widened in surprise when he walked into the room.

Miranda was completely naked, and lying in what he was fairly sure was supposed to be a seductive pose, except she had fallen asleep and was slumped over the pillows, her mouth hanging open slightly. He smiled, aroused as he took in the view of her lovely curves, but also amused by her quiet snoring.

He sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb her, and began pulling off his shoes.

She’d only been lightly dozing when she sensed movement on the bed, and she quickly shook herself awake, her eyes fluttering open to see him sitting on the bed.

"I’m awake, I swear," she protested sleepily, rubbing her eyes and sitting up slightly. A moment later she remembered she wasn’t wearing any clothes and she blushed slightly.

"Yes, you look wide awake," he teased. He finished kicking off his shoes and socks and leaned across the bed to plant a kiss on her cheek. With a laugh, he added, “I think it’s time for bed, yeah?"

When he kissed her cheek she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her, giggling sleepily. “Well that would be rather disappointing, wouldn’t it? You were going to be wooed, nay, seduced, tonight.”

He chuckled, his hands already sliding along her sides. ”Well, I’m certainly not going to resist, if you’re still up for it,” he said, his voice slightly husky as he kissed along her jaw.

Miranda smirked slightly as she pushed him off of her and onto his back, quickly scrambling to pull his t-shirt off of him, fingers tugging at the hem of it as she leaned in to kiss him. “You’ve got some catching-up to do, then.”

He was happy to shed his clothing, keeping his lips pressed against hers as he wriggled out of his trousers. When everything was chucked to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands up her back.

Their kisses were soft and sweet at first, and after a while she began to stray from his lips, slowly trailing her kisses over his jaw, his neck, his throat, her movements feeling slow and languid as she did. Her lips lingered over his collarbone for a moment before she lay her head down on his chest and unceremoniously fell back asleep.

His eyes had been closed as she kissed along his neck, as he concentrated on the feel of her lips on his skin. But when he felt her head rest on his chest, he looked down at her in confusion. He sighed and shook his head affectionately as he realized she had dozed off again. He shifted uncomfortably, considering waking her up so they could resume, but the odds of her staying awake seemed rather low at this point. Stroking her hair gently, he let his eyes droop closed, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up with him.

When she opened her eyes again, it was morning, and sunlight was streaming into their bedroom through the window. She was curled up against his chest and wondering why on earth she was so chilly until she realised she wasn't wearing a bit of clothing, and neither was he. She vaguely remembered waking up when he got home from work, but apparently she hadn’t gotten her chance to use her feminine wiles on him.

Stretching lazily, she shifted on top of him and looked down at his adorable sleeping face for a moment before she had an idea. No doubt he’d been just as disappointed as she was that the evening before had ended with her falling asleep on him. She giggled to herself as she gently nuzzled into his neck, quietly whispering his name to try and wake him.

Gary whimpered as she nuzzled him, jerking his head away. He was still mostly asleep and had never appreciated being woken up, whether by an alarm clock or a person. Grumbling, he tried to roll over and face away from whoever was disturbing his sleep.

She could feel him trying to wriggle away from her and it only caused her to giggle harder, burying her face into his shoulder to muffle her laughter. He was pinned under her weight and clearly didn’t realise he wasn’t going anywhere, which suited her just fine. She kissed his shoulder absently, her fingers starting to gently trace over his bare skin.

His eyes fluttered open slightly as he started to wake up, only partially aware that she was perched on top of him. ”Hi,” he said sleepily, squinting at her. 

"Hello," she replied, her voice quiet but cheerful. "Hm, you’re still not a morning person yet, are you?" she asked cheekily, her hands smoothing over his chest as she sat up slightly. "We’re going to have to work on that…"

"Mrrmmm tired," he mumbled, swatting at her hands on his chest before draping his arm over his face to block out the light.

Miranda gently pinched his arm. “Oi, rude!” She grinned devilishly and gestured at herself even though he was still hiding his eyes. “Hello, naked girlfriend, bonjour!”

Her statement pierced through his still-bleary mind, and he peered out at her from behind his arm. He was beginning to catch on, and he groggily reached out to run his hands over her, letting them run up her stomach and over her breasts.

"I did feel awful about falling asleep on you — literally — last night," she said with a sigh, leaning down until her lips just lightly brushed against his, teasing him. "I wanted to woo you properly, but turns out all I’m good at is falling asleep." Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she settled her hips over his and then kissed him, cupping his face in her hands.

He moaned softly into the kiss, his hands sliding around to her back, pulling her down closer to him. “I have a list of things you’re good at,” he murmured as their lips parted. If he had to be woken up, this was certainly an excellent way to go about it.

"Oh?" she asked coyly, blushing faintly as she trailed a line of kisses from his mouth along his jaw to his ear, sighing against his skin. "Let’s see… I’m pretty good at tripping over things. I know the entire Spice Girls discography. And of course, my many talents include enjoying good food." She punctuated each item on her silly list with kisses to his neck, each one a bit slower and more heated. "Or did you have something else in mind?" she asked, feigning innocence whilst trying to keep a straight face.

He bit his lip as her breath tickled his skin. ”Well there’s what you’re doing now, for starters.” His fingers pressed into her back as he fidgeted insistently against her.

"Noted," she murmured absently, gently pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat as he shifted restlessly beneath her. Truthfully, she was ridiculously pleased that she had that effect on him, that he reacted to her like that. Her free hand wandered over his bare skin, fingertips lightly skidding over his ribs as she grinned. "Do go on."

Her hands were moving over his body at a torturously slow pace. “You’re also an excellent tease,” he continued, arching back slightly as she kissed his neck. 

"I swear I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about," she insisted, still smiling as her kisses became more purposeful. She knew she was being cheeky but it was just so fun teasing him, especially when he normally drove her so crazy she couldn’t think. Her teeth grazed against his collarbones as her hand slid lower still and found him. "Anything else?" 

He inhaled sharply. ”Oh, nothing comes to mind,” he replied, mimicking her innocent tone, his voice strained. As maddening as her toying was, he was also thoroughly enjoying it, and he couldn’t resist teasing back a bit.

"Oi, rude," she murmured against his skin with a short laugh. "So you’ve forgiven me for waking you up, then?" Lifting her head, she watched his face for a moment before she leaned in and kissed him, capturing his lips with her own. 

He moaned softly into their kiss, his body prickling with anticipation. “Thanking you is more like it,” he said quietly as she pulled away. His hands slid over her breasts and he rocked his head back, sighing deeply.

She was torn between carrying on for a bit longer and just giving in to him; really she didn’t have the patience for this sort of thing but it was having just as much of an effect on her as it did on him. Her hand easily guided him into her and she sighed softly, toes curling happily at the feeling. 

He bucked his hips up eagerly to meet her, his hands travelling aimlessly over her skin, gliding over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. His heels dug into the mattress as he pressed against her, sighing in satisfaction.

Her moan was caught in the back of her throat as she kissed him. Her breathing was ragged as she slid her hands up and over his chest. She left them there for a moment, feeling his heart racing under her fingertips, before sitting up slightly. It was a bit precarious, her fingers digging into his chest slightly as she found her balance, but it felt — oh. She grinned down at him, feeling her skin flushed and her eyes heavy with arousal.

His eyes swept over her body as she rocked against him, finally meeting hers. He grinned back at her, but only for a moment, his face quickly contorting into a gasp of pleasure.

Sighing in satisfaction, she smoothed her hands over his chest, needing to touch him in some way as she rocked against him. She couldn’t kiss him in this position, which was a shame, really, but on the other hand she got to watch. Feeling quite naughty, her grin became mischievous and she let her eyes linger on his face.

He gripped at her thighs, her name slipping out from his lips in an almost desperate whisper. His head rocked back and he closed his eyes as he slipped a hand up in between them.

Her rhythm faltered just for an moment when she felt him touching her; she shuddered slightly against him before glancing downward to see his eyes closed, head thrown back and she felt hot with arousal at the sight of him, of knowing that she was doing this to him. She quickened her pace, hips rolling into his, his name escaping her as a moan.

His chest began to heave as he drew closer to the edge, overwhelmed by the feel of her. His breathing grew ragged and his free hand gripped her leg even tighter, his fingertips denting her skin.

She could feel the ache in her muscles — really, she was doing all the work — but she ignored it, her skin heated, breathing laboured, fingernails digging into his skin. With each movement she felt herself slipping further, and she began to moan his name in earnest as she felt herself begin to fall.

With one last, long groan, he fell apart underneath her. All the tension swept out of his body as his limbs went slack, a content smile spreading across his face.

She quickly followed him, every muscle in her body relaxing as she breathlessly cried out his name one last time. Her heart was thumping in her chest she could almost feel it, but all she could focus on were the residual sparks and shivers from what had just happened and his skin against her own.

His fingers trailed lightly up and down her sides, drawing lazy lines across her skin. Everything felt warm, and happy, and relaxed, and he certainly wouldn’t mind having more mornings like this. He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly.

She pressed a kiss to his lips before rolling off of him and curling into his side, matching his sigh with one of her own as she reveled in the feel of his warm skin against hers. As she nestled her head into the crook of his neck and draped her arm over his waist, she grinned with satisfaction. Guess I’m pretty good at it now. I am, after all, a master seductress, she thought to herself smugly, not realising she’d actually said it out loud.

"I can’t argue with that," he replied, not able to wipe the ridiculous smile off his face. His arm wrapped around her, fingertips brushing against her shoulder. He squeezed her closer to him, kissing the top of her head affectionately.

She blushed. “Said it out loud! Erm, glad you enjoyed?” she added, giggling as she yawned and snuggled into him. It was still early, she realised, which quickly overruled any immediate plans to get out of bed. Instead she laced her fingers with his and squeezed his hand. “I promise I won’t make a habit of waking you up early too often.”

He leaned his head against hers, looking at their clasped hands. ”If you wake me up like that, I think I can become a morning person.” He laughed softly, feeling relaxed and content (and still rather sleepy, actually.) 

She smirked playfully to herself. “Well, given how many late nights you’ve kept me up, I think we’re square now.” She yawned again and pulled the duvet up over them a little more. “Fancy another go later when you’re actually awake?” she asked, still giggling.

"Do you even need to ask?" he shot back suggestively. His free hand stroked her hair lightly. He laid his head back into the pillows, his eyes beginning to droop closed. 

She felt rather than saw him fall asleep; his grip on her hand loosened slightly and his breathing eventually slowed to an even rhythm. Guess I wore him out, she thought to herself, making sure she didn’t say it out loud this time. She stole one last glance at his adorable sleeping face before she tucked her head back into his shoulder and closed her own eyes. She wasn’t really that tired, she convinced herself, even as she felt herself sinking into his arms and back to sleep.


	15. eleven years ago

There was a certain sense of finality hanging in the air at their graduation party. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Miranda wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, as she hugged her friends goodbye she knew for most of them it would probably be the last time she would see them. At least her closest friends — Stevie, Gary, and even Tilly (though Tilly liked Miranda a lot more than Miranda liked her!) — were staying around after graduation.

But when all was said and done, when the music had been switched off, the guests had left, and she was hanging around helping him tidy up his flat, all of the ambiguity of her future seemed to creep into her head. She had no idea what she wanted to do now that she had graduated. She had a piece of paper saying she had something to offer but did she really?

She realised she wasn’t so much cleaning as just moving bits from one surface to another, and giggled out loud, finding it incredibly amusing in her fairly inebriated state of mind.

Gary kept stealing glances at her as they tided up, trying to figure out how on earth he was going to tell her.  His departure date was looming closer and he’d still only told his flatmates.  Miranda would normally be the first person he’d tell, but every time he was about to, she’d make a joke, or he’d rapidly change the subject, and he’d lose his nerve again.  He had hoped a few drinks would give him the edge he needed, but he was still at a loss.  

He plucked a few empty cups off his desk, chucking them into the trash bag he was carrying around with him.  He didn’t know  _why_  he was so worried about telling her, she’d probably be thrilled that he was doing something exciting.  (But maybe that was what scared him.)  As he turned to take the trash downstairs, he knocked a pile of papers to the floor. He’d pick them up when he got back.  ”Back in a moment,” he said as he slipped out the door.

She grinned at him as he left to take down the rubbish, laughing at the mess he left in his wake. Setting down the empty bottle in her hand, she crossed over to his desk and stooped down to collect the papers on the ground. It was the usual end-of-the-year nonsense they’d all been mailed upon completion of their final semester. As she shuffled the papers into a neat pile, something small slipped out from the middle and landed on the desk. 

It was a plane ticket.

Feeling just a bit like she was snooping — just a bit — Miranda picked it up and peered closely at it. It was his, and it was to Malaysia of all places. More worrying, however, was there was no second ticket for a return flight.

Confused, she chewed on her bottom lip nervously and turned it over and over in her hands as she tried to process this new information. He wasn’t just going traveling. Traveling meant you’d be coming back eventually, right? This… this meant he was leaving. Leaving her. She felt tears suddenly burning at her eyes and she wanted to tear it up into tiny pieces so he wouldn’t go. Instead she just stared at it, until the writing was just a blur.

"It was so nice of Tom and Charlie to leave with their girlfriends and let us clean up the mess, yeah?" Gary said as he returned.  Miranda was looking down at something in her hands, and as he approached her, he realized what it was.  He stopped dead in his tracks, his chest suddenly tight. 

Of all the ways she could have found out, this was probably the worst.

Miranda looked up, startled, when she noticed him standing there. She forced a smile and handed it to him. “Going traveling, then? That’s, um, brilliant. You’ll have loads of fun, I’m sure.” She tried to sound cheerful but even to her own ears she knew it sounded forced. 

He looked down at the ticket in his hands.  ”Yeah, uh, it’ll be great.  I’m pretty excited. Sorry I hadn’t told you yet, I just… didn’t think of it.”  He tried to sound nonchalant, as if he hadn’t been purposely keeping it a secret.  That was why she sounded sort of hurt, right?  They normally told each other everything.  He set the ticket back down on the desk.

She nodded silently and looked away, unable to look him in the eye. She knew if she did, she’d lose what little composure she was struggling to keep.

"No, it’s okay, um, I’m sure you would have told me… eventually. Hopefully before you left." She forced a weak laugh. “I just thought…" She trailed off, the words hanging in the air between them, her thought left unfinished. True, they hadn’t actually talked too much about what lay ahead after graduation, but she’d always assumed they’d muddle through it together. They were, after all, officially adults, a thought which terrified her. She had no interest in behaving like a grown-up. She wanted to rewind the last three years—late nights attempting to study, parties with terrible alcohol, all of it.

Instead the harsh reality faced her—having to say goodbye to her best friend and face her future alone.

"I’m going to miss you loads," she finally managed to get out, daring to glance over and immediately wishing she hadn’t when she felt the first few tears begin to slide down her cheeks. “A lot."

He stepped towards her instinctively when he saw her beginning to cry.  He usually didn’t hesitate to hug her, but this time he stopped short, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder instead.  He’d been pulling back a bit, lately.  Ever since New Years.  It was too difficult to be close to her, remembering how it felt to kiss her and wanting desperately to do it again.

But he couldn’t risk it.

Sometimes he worried that she  _did_  remember, that she  _had_ heard him confess his feelings.  But that she didn’t feel the same and was trying to spare his feelings.  He didn’t want to know for sure.

"I’m still here for two more weeks," he offered, “I’m sure you’ll be sick of me by then."  He paused for a moment, his hand slipping closer to her neck.  "I’ll miss you, too," he added quietly.

For some reason, his words offered little comfort this time. She could feel his hand on her skin, warm and strong and real, and she realised she couldn’t stop crying.

This was mental. Why couldn’t she stop? Why did her heart ache even though he hadn’t left yet? Why was the mere thought of life without him close so terrifying?

The answer left her so surprised that she stopped crying. Perhaps she’d known all along but had kept it buried because what they had, their friendship, was so perfect just as it was. Or maybe it was just good, old fashioned, denial that let her believe that it was just a crush and nothing more. That she wasn’t completely and ridiculously in love with him. 

But she was.

She hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks and held his gaze, wondering if she were to look into his eyes long enough, deeply enough, would she find those same feelings in them? Of course not. They’d been friends for three years and he’d never indicated there was anything more possible.

"I, um… sorry about this," she mumbled sheepishly, gesturing to her face. "I guess I was just surprised is all."

He was still clasping her shoulder, his thumb rubbing lightly along her blouse.  His heart felt like it was ripping in two when she cried, as if he was going to leave half of it here, with her.  The intensity of her reaction surprised him, but then he realized that it was probably just compounded with the fact that nearly everyone was leaving.

"It’s alright," he said gently, trying to smile, “I should have told you sooner."

Foolishly she wonder if he’d stay if he knew. If she told him she loved him, would he tear up that ticket like she so desperately wanted him to. But that was unfair and it was selfish. If he wanted to go, if he felt that he needed to… then it wasn’t fair for her to stop him. 

Instead she closed the distance between them and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. It felt familiar, comforting, friendly. That was all they ever would be, just friends. Best friends. Even if she wanted more than that from him, she’d never have the courage to ask. 

So she smiled bravely into his shoulder and tried to memorise every last little detail, every fleeting moment she still had with him before he left. That was all she had to keep.

He squeezed his arms around her shoulders tightly, his face pressed into her hair.  It smelled flowery and sweet and familiar, and he breathed in deeply.  

He sighed quietly, his own eyes pricking with tears now.  If she asked him to put off the trip; if she asked him not to go  _at all_ , he would stay.  All she had to do was say the word.  But he knew she wouldn’t.  That would mean that she returned his feelings, something he knew wasn’t true.

It was why he needed to go.

It was with reluctance that she released him, lifting her head from his shoulder and drawing back slightly. Their faces were only inches apart and she had to force herself not to lower her gaze to his lips, which she so desperately wanted to kiss until he changed his mind. 

"Just promise me that you’ll come home eventually," she said quietly, her cheeks flushing when she realised how it sounded. "I mean, it would be so dull without you around. And… who else is going to make sure I stay out of trouble? It’s certainly not going to be Stevie," she joked weakly.

He stared at her lips as she spoke, unable to look her in the eyes.  He wanted to tell her he’d come back, but could he?  Returning wasn’t even in his sight right now.  He could only think of the takeoff, of leaving and exploring and searching.  (And, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, of distraction and detachment and running away from everything hard.)  

He leaned his forehead against hers, a sore substitute for cupping her face in his hands and pulling her to him.  ”Eventually,” he said, the only word he could find.

It wasn’t him promising to stay, but it was him promising to come back one day, and maybe that was all she needed. Maybe that was all they needed. Maybe by the time he came home in a few months or even a year, she’d have the bravery to tell him how she felt. Until then she couldn’t do much else. She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to reconcile her conflicting emotions. Until then, they were just friends. Until then, she had to push aside the desperate urge to kiss him.

She licked her lips slightly and cleared her throat before pulling away, immediately feeling the loss of contact. “It’s late,” she said sheepishly, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. “I should probably head home. Although I have a feeling Stevie and the girls haven’t stopped partying yet,” she joked, forcing herself to relax. He wasn’t gone just yet; she had to be cool for at least another two weeks even if her heart was breaking.

"Don’t go," he blurted out, lightly touching her wrist.  He wasn’t quite ready to let her go.  He continued, stammering.  "I mean, we could, I don’t know, have one more sleepover?  For old time’s sake."  He smiled hopefully at her.

She smiled gently back at him, her mind flooding with memories of late nights studying and falling asleep on the sofa, of hiding out in his room watching horror films and eating pizza, of precariously standing on his bed affixing glow in the dark stars to the ceiling because the lights of the city filtered out the real stars above them. Most nights she spent with him, whether they were at his flat or out having some silly adventure. Nighttime didn’t seem so lonely when they were together. She’d need to get used to being alone again soon.

"Yeah, sure. One last before you leave," she agreed quickly. As she headed towards the bathroom to go clean her teeth (she even had her own toothbrush under the sink, that was how often she stayed over) she called back over her shoulder, "So long as I get to borrow a shirt to sleep in. I am  _not_  sleeping in this dress.”

"Right," he said, mostly to himself.  As she disappeared into the bathroom, he let out a sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.  Saying goodbye was hard, much harder than he’d anticipated.  And they still had weeks left.  He didn’t know how he would say it when the time came.

After changing into his pyjamas and rummaging around for a shirt for her, he knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

She was wiping off the last bits of makeup when she heard the knock and she jumped slightly, caught up in her thoughts. Opening the door, she grinned slightly at him and squeezed past, taking the shirt from him as she did. “Thanks.”

Back in his bedroom, she pulled off her dress and slipped on his shirt, a ritual she’d gone through dozens of times when staying the night but this time the deja vu made her rather sad. She’d never really noticed how it smelled like him, a comforting scent, and how much she’d miss it when he left.

As she scrambled to get under the duvet and into bed she was still debating whether or not to say anything.

Gary quickly brushed his own teeth and splashed cold water on his face before following her into the bedroom.  He climbed in next to her, pulling the blankets up around his chin, and stared at the ceiling, the stars glowing their faint sickly green.  As he settled in he became acutely aware that his arm was brushed up against hers, but he made no move to pull it away.

Miranda sighed drowsily as she laid back against her pillow. “Three years and they never did fix your heating, did they?” she mused aloud, shivering for a moment. Normally she’d suggest a cold bed dance, but her mind was already spinning around in circles. But if she didn’t suggest their routine cold bed dance, he’d think something was strange. No, she should suggest it and pretend there was nothing wrong. But maybe if he asked, she’d be able to say something. Right, she’d stay quiet and if he said anything she’d see how it went.

Her willpower lasted all of thirty seconds, and rather than do a cold bed dance, she rolled over onto her side and draped her arm over his waist, curling into his side like she’d done dozens of times before. Maybe Stevie was right. Maybe she and Gary didn’t exactly have a normal friendship. She borrowed his clothes. They shared a bed more nights than they didn’t. They were pretty much inseparable. The whispered rumors of whether they were dating had only increased in the last year, and though they both laughed them off, Miranda was slowly coming to realise that it certainly didn’t look that platonic after all.

His heart raced as she cuddled up next to him.  Every touch was electric to him now, the quickly vanishing time he had left with her amplifying what he already felt.  He looked down at her, nuzzled into his shoulder.  Maybe there was more… no.  He wouldn’t let himself entertain the thought anymore.  It was difficult enough already, he didn’t need to make it even harder on himself.  

That was what he told himself, at least.  But he still leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

She felt his lips brush against her skin and she froze; how easy it would be to just turn her head and kiss him properly. It was dark, she could write it off as an accident, and maybe he’d kiss her back. Instead she yawned and squeezed his waist just a bit tighter for a moment.

The silence was broken only by their breathing, but while her eyes were closed and her body relaxing, sinking,  _melting_  into his side and the blankets, she knew she couldn’t fall asleep.

She sat up slightly, opening her eyes and letting them adjust to the darkness. “I have to tell you something,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

If his heart was racing before, now it was practically beating out of his chest.   She couldn’t… but maybe…  was she going to say what he thought — hoped — she would?  He rolled over onto his side to face her, trying to force his racing heart and mind to slow.  ”Yeah?”

Her hands were shaking and she curled them around the edge of the duvet. “Um, well, I just… since you’re leaving and all — I thought I should say…” The words were lodged in her throat, threatening to burst forth but for the fear that still wrapped around her heart — fear that he wouldn’t feel the same, that it would ruin their friendship, that she’d disappoint him. 

She took a deep breath and started over. “Right. What I’ve been trying to tell you is that…”

The ice cold terror flooded through her chest once more and she let out an anguished sigh. The words that she found herself saying weren’t any less sincere but they were the wrong words.

"You’re my best friend, and I don’t know how I would have survived these last three years without you. And… I’m going to miss you more than I’d admit to anyone," she said quietly, "but I’m telling you because I tell you everything." Her voice caught slightly. She told him everything except what she so desperately wanted to,  _needed_  to.

His heart slowed as it sank to the pit of his stomach.  He had let himself foolishly, selfishly hope once more that she returned his feelings, only to have the rug pulled out from under him again.  ”Right.  Um, thanks,” he stumbled over his words, wincing as they came out.  Well, at least it was settled, at least he wouldn’t have to wonder anymore.  He patted her hand once, then quickly drew it away.

Disappointed in herself, she lay back down and exhaled as quietly as she could, letting out the breath she’d been holding in for what felt like ages. She’d missed her chance for good all because of her own cowardice. In two weeks Gary would be gone and she had no idea if or when she’d see him again.

"Well, um… night, then," she mumbled, glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her blushing with shame. She rolled onto her side facing away from him.

Even with him right there beside her, she’d never felt so lonely. 

He curled up with one of his pillows, staring at the back of her head.  He wanted to wrap his arm around her or lean his head on her shoulder, but he needed to start pulling away.  It would be easier this way.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wide awake, but eventually she heard his breathing slowly even out and he didn’t stir when she sat up in bed and slowly slid out from under the duvet so she knew he was asleep.

She crept through the darkened bedroom as quietly as she could manage, stopping by the bathroom to quickly throw on her dress once more and tucking her shoes under her arm before padding barefoot to the front door. She didn’t look back and she didn’t breathe until she was safely on the other side and dashing silently down the hall and down the stairs.

Gary sat up with a start when he heard the door shut.  He instinctively reached his arm out for Miranda but found empty space instead.  ”Miranda?” he called out.   When he got no response, he climbed out of bed to look for her.  He thought maybe she had just gone to the loo, but the door was open and the room was dark.  The sinking feeling returned to his stomach as he realized she had left after only - he checked the clock - ten minutes.  So much for one last night of normal friendship.

As he returned to bed, the thought occurred to him that he might not see her again.  That maybe she left so they wouldn’t have to say goodbye.  His eyes stung as he slipped back under the covers, trying to banish the thought from his mind.


	16. paint wars

So the shop did need a fresh coat of paint to brighten up the place, but Miranda didn’t understand _why_  she had to be the one to do it. Stevie’s excuse had simply been that she was ‘too short’ and Miranda’s pointed look towards the stepladder hadn’t done much to change her mind.

Instead, here she was, trying not to trip over the paint can, the dropcloth, or anything else on the ground as she felt another drop of paint sliding down her arm. She was already daydreaming about the nice, hot, bath she’d have as soon as she got upstairs to the flat. She was getting an awful cramp in her arm and finally she stepped back and admired her handiwork before deciding to call it a night.

At least the little bit of reno meant that the shop was closed for the weekend, and she could look forward to a bit of time off just as soon as she could convince Stevie to pitch in and help.

Gary’s face lit up as soon as he saw Miranda standing in the middle of the shop and he walked over to her quickly.  ”Looks great,” he said, kissing her right above a spot of dry paint on her cheek.  ”Missed a spot, though,” he teased her, pointing at the wall.

Miranda followed his line of sight to the spot on the wall. “What? I’ve gone over every inch twice, how could I have missed a spot…” Her eyes narrowed when she realised he was teasing her.

With a dramatic sigh she reached for the paintbrush again. Instead of using it on the wall — which was completely perfect and even, thank you — she turned and flicked a bit of paint at him.

"Missed a spot!" she told him cheerfully, giggling.

He jumped backwards instinctively, but it was too late - a glob of paint landed on his arm.  ”No fair, I’m unarmed!” he exclaimed.  Scooping some of the paint onto his finger, he lunged after her in retaliation.

"That’s the whole point of a sneak attack!" She giggled and sidestepped out of the way right into the tray of paint. There was no time to lament the ruination of her favourite trainers; she brandished her paintbrush in front of her with both hands like a sword. "Come any closer and I  _will_  make you match the wall,” she warned him between giggles.

"Oh really?" he asked, spying the paint stirrer and snatching it up quickly.  "I’d like to see you try."  Grinning at her mischievously, he inched closer, making jabbing motions with his newfound weapon.

Laughing, she held her ground, feeling the drops of paint on her arms. “I think you’ll find I’ve chosen the superior weapon,” she said smugly, taking a swipe at him with her paint-soaked brush. “This is what you get for having a go at my artistic brilliance!”

"Oh, I don’t know, this is pretty good," he replied, dipping the stick into the paint can to reload before swinging it in her direction again.  "Don’t think I’d call a plain wall  _artistic,_ though,” he teased, chuckling as he unsuccessfully tried to dodge another swipe of her paintbrush.  

"Oi, I slaved all day over that bloody wall!" she said defensively, wiping a bit of paint off her face and only succeeding in making it worse. She was still trying to carefully avoid his counter-attacks, parrying the mixing stick with her brush. Seeing an opening, she took it, narrowly tripping over the half-full can of paint as she moved towards him.

She got another decent jab in, and he could feel the paint starting to soak through his shirt now.  When she was close enough, he quickly snared her around the waist, pulling her against him.  ”Got you now,” he said, smirking as he tried to knock the brush out of her hand.

She cried out in defiance when he grabbed her waist, trying to squirm free and in her haste letting him knock her brush away. With no weapon she resorted to desperate measures. Cupping his cheek in her paint-covered hand, she instead moved closer and kissed him.

The mixing stick clattered to the floor as his knees weakened slightly. Instinctively, he wove his fingers into her hair, making sticky streaks of color at the nape of her neck.  

She felt the paint sliding down her neck but it was quickly chased by the feeling of his hand in her hair; wrapping her free arm around his waist she pressed closer to him, teeth grazing lightly over his bottom lip. “That was  _entirely_  too easy,” she murmured.

"Are you really that surprised?" he replied, his voice soft and breathy.  He traced idly along her back with his other hand, making spirals along her waist.  Their lips were hovering just barely apart and he closed his eyes before leaning in to kiss her again.

Her paint-stained fingers gripped the back of his shirt and she responded to his kiss with passion; as amusing as she’d found it that he was so easily swayed by her kiss, she found she too still reacted with equal urgency. Her quiet moan of approval was muffled in the back of her throat as his hand roamed over her back. When she tore her mouth off of his to catch her breath, she took in his paint-splattered appearance and giggled, knowing she probably looked just as silly.

Her laugh was contagious and Gary found himself chuckling too as he untangled his fingers from her hair.  He brushed at a spot of paint on her cheek, but only succeed at smearing it across her face.  ”Sorry,” he said between giggles.

Miranda giggled harder and used the paint still on her fingers to make a dot on his nose before flinging her arms affectionately around his neck and grinning. Sticky paint on one’s bare skin isn’t the most pleasant feeling, she mused, but for some reason she just didn’t care at that moment.

"We should probably wash up before this starts to dry," she said with a laugh.

He scrunched his nose when she touched it, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tighter.  ”Good idea,” he agreed, but didn’t make any move towards the flat, kissing her lightly on the forehead instead.

When she figured out they weren’t going to make any progress, she smirked slightly. “Or, you know, take your time. Not in any rush here,” she joked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she teased him.

He rolled his eyes as he slipped his arms out from around her.  ”Fine,” he sighed, grabbing her hand and tugging her towards the steps.

Giggling, she squeezed his hand and hurried after him, tripping over the paint can a second time as she did. They clambered noisily up the stairs to their flat, Miranda hugging him from behind once they reached the top.

Gary covered her hands with his and leaned back into her slightly.  ”Who’s taking their time now,” he teased, not minding one bit as his fingers traced over her hands.

She kissed him on the cheek before letting go. “Only because you let me get away with it.” Opening the front door, she dropped her bag onto the kitchen table. “Right, shower. Time to get wet and you can scrub me down,” she started, then immediately blushed. “Erm, don’t get any naughty ideas. Too late?”

He grinned, coming up behind her and tugging playfully at her shirt.  ”Much too late.”  His mind was already racing miles ahead.

"You are impossible," she sighed, shaking her head affectionately as she pulled off her paint-splattered shirt and took him by the arm, hauling him into the bathroom. "Can you at least wait until we’re somewhat clean and less… sticky? This paint feels awful," she giggled as she turned on the hot water.

He laughed as he peeled off his clothing and piled it on the floor. “You’re not making it easy for me.”  Stepping towards her, he grazed his hand over her lower back.

Miranda just grinned saucily at him as she shed her paint-covered clothes while the bathroom filled with steam. Finally she reached to unclasp her necklace, the tiny M pendant, that she always wore. “Or should I leave it on, and you can paint me like one of your French girls,” she giggled, striking a pose against the sink before carefully removing it. 

Gary shook his head as he laughed, “I think we’ve both had enough of paint for today.”  After she set down the necklace, he slid his hands along her hips and kissed her, lingering for a moment before pulling away and climbing into the shower.

She scrambled in after him, letting the water wet her skin before reaching for the soap. “Agreed,” she replied with a smile as she started to scrub the now-dry paint off her skin. “You know, I only managed to get up the first coat. We might need to have a rematch,” she teased him.

"I’ll be ready next time," he replied as he tried to scrape the paint out of his hair.  He gave up after a moment, preferring to run his hands over Miranda’s shoulders instead.  

"How did you even  _get_  paint in your hair? It certainly wasn’t me,” she laughed, reaching up to inspect it with her fingers. “Suppose it’s hard to avoid. Where _else_  did you get it?” she asked cheekily, giggling as her eyes flicked over him before returning to his face. “Just the hair then. Shame,” she said with a wistful sigh before giggling and grabbing the shampoo.

He laughed.  ”Like you really need the excuse.”  He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead before swiping the shampoo bottle from her.

"Oi, pot meet kettle!" she shot back, laughing. She ran her fingers through her own wet hair to wash out the paint that he’d left in it earlier, the water at their feet tinged with blue as it rinsed away. "You’re just as guilty, if not moreso."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."  He grinned at her, feigning innocence, while sliding his now sudsy hands over her sides.

"I think you have a  _pretty_  good idea.” She finished rinsing the shampoo from her hair before stepping closer to him and draping her arms over his shoulders, her fingers idly tangling in his wet hair.

"You’ll have to remind me," he said, his eyes flicking down to her lips.  His hands slipped around to her back, his palms pressing at the small of her back.

"Bit rude of you to forget," Miranda replied, one eyebrow lifting suggestively as she gently wiped a bit of paint from his cheek with her thumb. Even after it had vanished she didn’t move her hand, her eyes locked on his before she leaned in and kissed him slowly, eyes closing against the drops of water sliding down her face.

He sighed as her lips pressed softly to his, his eyes fluttering closed.  He gently pulled her closer, pressing his body flush against her.

Her quiet gasp of surprise was muffled against his lips when he pulled her close; her hands slid easily over his wet skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The warm water felt like nothing compared to their heated skin as her kisses became more urgent. What had been intended to be for purely  _practical_  reasons was now turning into something entirely out of her control, and she honestly didn’t care in the slightest bit. At least the paint was gone.

His hands worked their way up her back slowly, still pressing her insistently against him.  He was still very careful about keeping them steady; he knew if they slipped Miranda would ban sharing the shower for good.  He broke away for a moment to catch his breath and touched his forehead against hers.

His name escaped her lips as a ragged sigh as they parted briefly. She could feel his heart racing against her chest, his hands on her back, his breath against her lips. She kept her eyes closed as she tried to find her voice, and when she did it was slightly husky. “Remember yet?” she asked, smirking playfully.

He captured her lips in a kiss before replying.  ”Starting to,” he breathed, “A few details are still fuzzy.”

Miranda opened her eyes slowly only to roll them in affectionate irritation. “Oh for goodness’ sake…” She giggled as her hand landed on his backside and she gave it a playful pinch. “I’m referring to your complete inability to keep those hands of yours to yourself. You’re a terrible influence on me, you know,” she sighed, pressing her body tightly to his and dropping a kiss onto his shoulder.

He yelped when she pinched him.  ”Mm, hardly my fault,” he said playfully, letting his hands roam over her, “you’re so gorgeous I can’t help myself.”  He slid a hand down her back and pinched her in return.

She jumped slightly in surprise (really, how had she  _not_  expected him to retaliate, she chided herself) and her feet slid on the wet floor of the tub. Squeaking in abject terror, she clutched his shoulders tightly and tried to steady herself.

Her grip on his shoulders caught him off guard and he lost his balance. His feet slipped out from under him and he grasped at the wall to catch himself, but it was too late. They both crumpled to the floor of the tub with a thud, Gary landing uncomfortably on top of her. His eyes flew wide open in shock as he looked down at her. “Are you alright?” he asked, worried.

She winced in discomfort as he landed heavily on her. Normally she found that part rather exciting but with a rather bruised backside and the wind nearly knocked out of her, it was anything but. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes,” she said as soon as she caught her breath. She released her death-grip on his shoulders and found that her hands still worked, at least.

The water was still pouring over them, and he reached forward to turn it off. He brushed away the wet hair that was clinging to her face and smiled weakly at her. “Good memories, I hope?”

She nodded, blinking the last drops of water from her eyes. “Very good memories,” she said quietly, looking up at him and smiling shyly. Among the glimpses of her life before she’d ever met him where all of their important moments. “Still, bit relieved I didn’t actually die. There’s still a lot more left that I want to do.”

"Yeah?"  He shifted uncomfortably, their small tub not built for eight long limbs.  Grabbing on to the edge of the tub, he stood back up, reaching out a hand to Miranda.

Taking his hand, she gingerly stood up as well and tried to ignore the twinges of pain. No doubt she’d end up with a few bruises after her fall. She wrapped herself up in her dressing gown as she continued. “It’s more of a bucket list, I suppose. Don’t laugh!” she pleaded, grinning sheepishly.

He rubbed his shoulder where her nails had dug into him when they fell.  ”I’m not going to laugh,” he said, smiling sweetly.  After slipping on his own dressing gown, he wrapped his arms lightly around her waist, trying not to disturb any sore spots.

She slid her hands over his shoulders and clasped them loosely behind his neck before leaning in to place a brief but soft kiss on his lips. “Thanking you for the rescue. Well, the rescue attempt. We’ll have to work on your reflexes just in case it happens again.”

"What, you’re not going to ban me from the shower?" he asked, somewhat surprised.  

"Never. Too much fun," she admitted with a laugh and a cheeky grin. "Worth the risk of possible concussion, I’ve decided." She curled her fingers gently into his tangled hair and rested her forehead against his for a moment. "Though I’m sure we’ll both be bruised tomorrow."

"Yeah, sorry about that."  He smiled at her sheepishly, feeling a bit guilty for letting her fall.  "There are probably more fun ways to get bruises," he said with a laugh.

Instantly her mind began to race and she blushed; she quite liked the fantasy of him pushing her against the wall and ravishing her, but she was already feeling a bit sore and filed that particular scenario away for another time. “Oh, I can think of a few ways,” she replied, still grinning. “But I’m afraid these ones have to heal first.”

He nodded.  ”Right, good point.”  Kissing her quickly on the forehead, he asked, “So what was that about a bucket list?”

She blushed just a bit more furiously. “Oh, you know. Ever since my near-death experience I’ve just been trying to sort out all the things I want to do in my life.” She reached for her hairbrush and started to brush the tangles from her hair. “You know, perform at Wembley. Swim with a dolphin even though I’m afraid of the open water. Might be a bit tricky. Make mad, passionate, love with someone  _al fresco_ ,” she continued, fighting to keep her voice steady but bursting into giggles at the mere thought of it.

Her laughter was contagious, and Gary found himself chuckling softly.  ”We did get cut short that time.”  He licked his lips involuntarily as his mind drifted towards thoughts of secluded grassy knolls.  

"Mm, we still have time though," she joked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at him with a devious grin. As she set her hairbrush aside and took him by the hand, she continued, "and the last thing on my list right now is to walk barefoot through Paris. Actually, doesn’t even need to be barefoot. That actually doesn’t sound like it would be comfortable at all! But can you imagine? All the culture and the food, and the Eiffel Tower, and the food, and the cafes… and the food."

He squeezed her hand.  ”Sounds lovely,” he said, “Well, aside from the barefoot part.”  Tugging on her hand, he pulled her closer to him.  ”That is one place I never made it to when I was traveling.”

"Yeah? I thought for certain you would have gone. You went everywhere, didn’t you?"  _Or maybe it just felt like you were farther away than you actually were_ , she thought to herself as she absently rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “I haven’t even left the continent. Though not for lack of trying,” she admitted with a sheepish grin, remembering her attempt to leave for Malaysia.

"Never made it, it just never seemed like the right time." He shrugged.  "And you’ve at least left the country," he suggested helpfully.  The last time she’d left the country was to get away from him, he remembered.  A brief flicker of regret crossed his mind, but he had come to accept it as a necessary step to get to where they were now. "We’ll work up to getting you off the continent."

"This time let’s see if I can stay away longer than a week," she said with a chuckle. "I missed everyone too much last time. I missed  _you_  too much, even though I refused to admit it. Bit stubborn in that regard.” The truth, she knew, was that she’d simply been lonely on her own. She’d wanted to take the time away from him to reinvent herself like she’d done when he’d gone to Hong Kong, but in the end she’d returned the same person she was before, and still in love with him.

"Oh, I’ll be with you, though," he said, wrapping his free arm around her waist, "So it shouldn’t be a problem.  If you get homesick, I can cook you breakfast, get Stevie to ring and ask why you’re not at the shop…" he flicked his eyes up towards the ceiling as he listed everything off, "get Tilly to give you some of her rubbish life coaching, I could get your mum to call too, but you might want to skip that one?"  He grinned at her.

She couldn’t help but make a face at the mere suggestion of involving her mother in any way; if anything that would make her reluctant to go home in the first place. Instead she leaned into him and said with a grin, “I just need you. Breakfast optional. No, actually, gonna have to say mandatory. Especially those banana pancakes you’ve gotten me hooked on.” As she placed a brief but soft kiss on his lips she decided she really wasn’t worried about being homesick: as long as he was there with her, she was pretty much home, anyway.

He smiled at her, thinking of the way her eyes lit up when she wandered into the kitchen and found him cooking.  And then trying to steal pancakes from the plate before he was finished.  ”My plan worked, then.  Now that you’re addicted you have to stick around,” he grinned at her mischievously, his lips hovering just slightly apart from hers.

"Hmm, might not just be the pancakes you’ve gotten me addicted to," she replied, her grin widening before she shook her head with a laugh and then quickly closed the distance between them to kiss him. Her hands curled around his shoulders, gently pulling him closer to her.

His hands slid up her back, pressing her to him.  His eyes fluttered closed as he let himself get lost in the kiss, their lips brushing gently together.  When they broke apart, he buried his head in the curve of her neck, sighing happily.

She felt his breath tickling her neck and smiled serenely, her fingers stroking his hair and the back of his neck. She yawned silently, the weight of the day beginning to settle onto her shoulders. Dropping a quick kiss to the top of his head, she tried to untangle herself from his arms. “I think it might be time for bed,” she said wistfully, stifling another yawn with her free hand.

He pulled back, dropping his hands from around her.  ”You might be right,” he said, ruffling a hand through his still-damp hair.  He wasn’t particularly tired yet, but slipping under the covers with her sounded like an excellent idea.

"Mm, if you had to spend all day being bossed around by Stevie whilst trying to balance on a stepladder, you’d be knackered, too." Miranda grabbed his hand and led the way out of the bathroom, switching off the lights as they went. "I guess I’m lucky I  _only_  fell off the one time?”

"Oh, you’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?" he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as she pulled him across the flat.  "You’re sure you’re alright?" he asked, a bit concerned. 

His concern was sweet, and rather appreciated given Stevie’s reaction at her tumbling off the ladder had been far too much laughter. She glanced over at him and smiled again. “I’m sure it looks worse than it feels. I’ve got bruises on top of bruises at this point. The downfalls of being, well, completely clumsy.” She crossed the bedroom to their dresser and pulled out her pyjamas before slipping off her dressing gown and beginning to change for bed.

He followed her over to the dresser to change, and noticed a large bruise forming on her hip.  He furrowed his brow, still concerned, but her complete nonchalance about the subject kept him from saying anything about it.  Instead, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the shoulder before fetching his pyjamas from the drawer.

After sorting out her pyjamas Miranda fell ungracefully down onto their bed, burrowing into her pillow. “I’m absolutely shattered,” she yawned, cracking one eye open slightly to watch him change with a cheeky smile.

"Hardly surprising," he said as he crawled into bed next to her.  Draping an arm lazily over her back, he shifted closer to her, stealing a corner of her pillow for himself.

She rolled onto her side to face him. “Oi, do I have to share again tonight?” she teased, using her finger to draw a dividing line on her pillow. “This is my side,” she giggled, before crossing the boundaries to kiss him goodnight.

He sighed quietly into the kiss.  ”Fine,” he said with mock indignation, moving his head right up to the imaginary line and smiling at her.

She shook her head and laughed before flinging her arm over his waist and pulling him close to her. “You are ridiculous, but I love you.”

"Love you, too," he said sweetly.  He tangled his legs with hers as she pulled him towards her, his fingers curling into the fabric of her pyjamas.

She yawned quietly as she snuggled into him and felt her eyes grow heavy. “Try not to talk in your sleep tonight,” she murmured, giggling softly to herself. With one last look at his face close to hers on her pillow, she let her eyes close and fell asleep soon after.


	17. jealousy

Gary kicked the door shut behind him, his arms already wrapping around Miranda’s waist from behind, pulling her tightly to him.  Maybe it was the alcohol, but seeing someone else flirting with her had driven him absolutely mad.  Even if it had only been one-sided, he was still glad to be back in their flat, just the two of them.  He leaned his head against hers, his breath tickling at the back of her neck.

She was about to drop her purse on the table when she felt Gary’s arms around her and she stilled, covering his hands with her own and leaning back against his chest. “Well, glad to see you’ve cheered up, then,” she teased him gently, her fingers fitting between his as she spoke. He’d been in a mood almost the entire night, and more than once she’d looked over from where she and Stevie were dancing with some of Stevie’s friends to catch him sulking a bit. “You should have come and danced with us; Stevie promised she wouldn’t have a go at your skills,” she added, giggling.

"You seemed a bit busy with that bloke," he said placing a kiss at the nape of her neck, his voice low and husky, "Didn’t want to interrupt."

"Who, Stevie’s friend? I didn’t even catch his name. He tried to buy me a drink, you know. I almost said yes because can you _believe_  those fruity drinks I like are so expensive? I was being thrifty. Well, until Stevie told me he was, in fact, hitting on me. I told him sorry, not interested, I am, what-I-call, spoken for.” She shivered slightly at the feel of his lips brushing against her skin. 

He kissed along her neck in between words, still gripping her tightly.  ”Well, that’s good.  I should have come over and told him to back off.” 

Miranda’s eyes widened in surprise as she cottoned on to what he was saying. Releasing his hands, she twisted in his arms until they were nose to nose and draped her arms around his neck. “So that’s why you were in such a state, then. I wasn’t the only one getting attention tonight, though — I noticed that cute ginger waitress chatting you up. Hope you let her down gently, too.” She grinned at him.

He furrowed his brow.  ”I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  He could hardly even remember what the waitress looked like, much less if she had been flirting with him.  

She rolled her eyes slightly in disbelief. “The fact that you don’t even notice that every other female on the planet practically throw themselves at you is both slightly flattering and completely ridiculous. If anyone should be jealous right now, I think I’ve got the upper hand.” Her tone was light and joking but there was an element of truth to her teasing; he’d always gotten attention since back in uni.

"I’m not the one that got offered a drink," he said defensively, "And I have had  _plenty_  of reasons to be jealous.  I come back after three months and find you snogging an American in my restaurant.” He flicked his eyes downward, “I’ve got to keep an eye on you.”

Miranda narrowed her eyes slightly. “First of all, if you want to get technical, he was snogging  _me_. I was not an equal snogging participant in that particular scenario! And second, do you know how long it took me to find someone willing to kiss me? Ages! It took me ages! Well, actually Mike found me pretty quickly.” She winced—maybe a bit too soon? “But you! You just exist and you find a girlfriend. Tamara. Rose. Jacinta.” She blushed slightly. “I hated all of them, you know.”

"I seem to recall coming to the flat and discovering you with  _two_  other men,” he quipped before leaning in to kiss her roughly.  When he pulled back, he added, “And I believe that brings your total up to four.  Pretty sure that mathematically, I have more reason to be jealous.”

"But nothing was ever going to actually happen with half of them," she insisted defensively, pushing those rather disturbing memories out of her head as quickly as they flashed past. "That puts you ahead with a 3 to 2 advantage. It’s a small advantage but I still think this means I get to say you might have been overreacting just a bit tonight." As she spoke she’d moved closer to him unconsciously; his sudden kiss and his possessiveness was having a noticeable effect on her.

"Well if we’re eliminating people, i don’t think Jacinta counts either," he was hovering right in front of her lips, wanting to kiss her again but holding back for a moment, "So I think we’re at least tied."

Her eyes flicked down to his mouth for a moment. She didn’t think jealousy looked good on anyone but for some strange reason she found it rather exciting, that he wanted her all to himself. She licked her lips, feeling the tension around them. “You have never looked more attractive than you do right now.”

He responded by kissing her again, so fervently that he lost his balance and stepped forward to catch it.  His fingers were already twisting at the hem of her shirt.

Her soft squeak of surprise was stifled quickly by his lips on hers, and she stumbled backwards before regaining her footing. How could he even think she’d even give someone else a second look? How could she ever think he’d do the same? He was the only person who made her feel like this. She pulled him tightly against her, her kisses urgent and desperate.

He moaned quietly against her lips, pulling even harder at her shirt.  He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous at all, but seeing someone flirting with her had brought back some old insecurities.  Now he just needed to touch her, to kiss her, to remind himself that he was hers and she was his.

She felt the insistent pull at her shirt and tore her mouth off his with a ragged gasp for air. She felt breathless and light-headed, even moreso than usual. He’d never kissed her like that before, and a result she felt the passion bursting from her without any hesitation or care. She wanted him all to herself and by the way he touched her and kissed her, she knew that he absolutely felt the same. Without saying a word she wrapped herself around him once more, kissing him deeply as her hands moved to help him remove her shirt.

The moment her shirt dropped to the floor he dove back towards her, his lips trailing along her collarbone before moving down to the tops of her breasts.  His hands slid along the smooth skin of her shoulders, slipping her bra straps off as he went.

Through the haze of pleasure induced by his lips on her naked skin, she realised he was still wearing more clothes than she, and so with determination she reached for his shirt, practically tearing at the tiny buttons with unsteady fingers. Even without her blouse she felt too hot, her skin flushed. As his kisses continued she dragged her fingers up his back, nails scraping at his skin, clutching him to her.

His kisses grew more urgent as his hands roamed over her body.  He was desperate for her, wanting to kiss over every inch of her.  Stepping backwards, he began to move them towards their bedroom, his fingers already hooking under her waistband.

She impatiently pushed his shirt off of his shoulders before hurriedly reaching for his belt buckle while attempting to navigate through their kitchen with him still refusing to release her. Not that she wanted him to; she felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him even as she pushed him through the door and into the bedroom, never taking her hands off of him. 

His trousers dropped around his ankles while they were still moving, and Gary suddenly found himself tangled up in them.  Rapidly losing his footing, he fell backwards towards the bed, instinctively grabbing at Miranda to catch himself.

She landed on top of him with a startled exhale but didn’t pause in her efforts to get them both undressed as quickly as possible; she needed to feel his skin against her own, his hands everywhere. Straddling his hips, she pinned him to the bed with her weight so he couldn’t move. Her hands slid over his warm skin as she covered his neck and throat with rough kisses, her teeth marking him, claiming him as hers.

He pressed up against her, his nails scraping over her back as her lips moved over him.  He was already impatient, full of desire and need. Shifting his weight, he tried to flip them over and gain control.

In an instant she found herself flat on her back, her hands grasping at him as their positions were suddenly reversed. She growled in frustration, pushing at his shoulders to try and regain the upper hand.

He held strong against her hands on his shoulders, not allowing her to win back control. Grabbing onto her wrists, he pinned them down above her head with one hand and reached between her legs with the other.  She was already wet, and he brushed his fingers over her before pushing one inside.

She was already trembling with anticipation when he pinned down her hands, aching for his touch because she couldn’t reciprocate, but when she felt his finger slide easily into her she realised everything since they’d gotten home had affected her more than she’d thought. His name escaped her as a whispered cry as her head rocked back against the pillows, her hands tightening into fists.

A smirk spread across his face as he saw the effect he had on her and he swallowed hard.  Slipping a second finger in, he rocked back and forth slightly as his fingers pumped inside her, slowly but firmly.  He loosened his grip on her wrists, leaning down to drag his lips over her skin.

The instant she felt his grip ease on her wrists, she pulled her hands free and grabbed his shoulders. Her heart was racing, her breathing was laboured, and all she could feel were his fingers moving far too lazily to bring her any release. She used her advantage of surprise to shove him off of her and onto his back, but overestimated just how close to the edge of the bed they were. With her shriek of horror they both dropped down onto the ground.

Gary landed on his back with a thud, his eyes widening in shock.  Miranda landed half on top of him, and he curled an arm protectively around her.  ”Alright?” he choked out, his hand skidding across her back.

He broke her fall, and for a moment she was worried he was hurt. As soon as she realised he wasn’t, she pressed her body tightly to his, frustrated by the interruption. “Nothing’s broken,” she whispered close to his ear, her lips brushing against his neck.

He let out a sigh as her breath tickled on his skin.  The shock of the fall had worn off and he ached for her more than ever.  He scrambled on top of her, parting her legs.  He could barely wait another moment for her, and he brushed his fingers over her once more before pushing inside of her, his hands pinning down her hips.

She moaned audibly, her back arching as she tried to break free of his grasp with little success. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face to hers, crushing her lips against his and kissing him urgently, her other hand flat against his back, holding him tightly to her.

His teeth nipped at her bottom lip as she pressed him to her, his hands grasped at whatever the could reach, his fingers splayed out and stiff.  He moved against her, into her, a groan forming in the back of his throat.  His knees dug into their rug and he squeezed his eyes shut, only able to feel her.

Their kisses were heated and clumsy, the rhythm of their bodies constantly distracting her as she gripped his hips with her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. Her fingers wove tightly into his hair and as she let her eyes close the world slid away and it was just her, and him, and the way only he could make her feel, which was on an entirely different level at that moment. Never had he handled her like this, with such desperation and possessiveness and pure, obvious  _need_.

His kisses became sloppier as he neared the edge, leaving damp circles along her jaw.  He pushed harder, slamming against her as he mumbled her name into her skin again and again.

Her fingers pulled roughly at his hair, frantically trying to recover some control but quickly giving up when it became clear it was all his. She instead moved her hands down to his back, her nails digging into his damp skin deeply enough to leave marks. Each time he pushed into her she felt her release building, intensifying, until finally the tension was too much and she came apart beneath him, her voice loud and undone as she cried out his name.

Though he had won their battle for control, he still felt overcome by her.  His breathing was heavy and his heart was pounding and his skin was sticking to hers.  As she unraveled underneath him he moaned quietly, digging his toes into the rug.  A few moments later (though it felt like no time at all) he followed her, gasping.  He opened his eyes finally, looking down at her before burying his head in her shoulder.

She wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed before she felt her thundering heartbeat slow to its resting state and when it did, she untangled her arms and legs from around him slightly, her muscles deliciously sore and her skin still sticking to his. She felt his head heavy on her shoulder and gently stroked his hair, letting out a satisfied sigh of contentment.

He kissed her shoulder lightly as her fingers ran over his hair.  As his breathing slowed he rolled off next to her, draping his arm over her stomach. 

Her eyes fluttered open drowsily and she glanced over at him, grinning a bit shyly. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said at all. She opted to simply lean in and kiss him gently, nothing at all like the bruising kisses they’d shared earlier.

He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers as she kissed him.  ”Hello,” he whispered when they pulled apart, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

"Hi," she whispered back, her smile soft and sincere. She gently pressed her forehead to his for a moment, her fingers absently caressing his shoulder. She exhaled quietly and then met his gaze. "You know it’s you, right? I mean, as fun as this all was, having you jealous…" Her skin still felt warm even as she spoke. "I want  _you._ ”

He bit his lip, his expression growing more serious.  ”I know,” he said, shaking his head slightly, “Sorry.” His fingers twirled a piece of her hair absently.  ”Same goes for you,” he added, “Even though I have dated a lot…  None of them were you.”

She felt her heart swell with happiness and love and pressed another brief kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she said quietly, her hand still curled around his shoulder. As they lay there together she shivered slightly, the cool air of the room hitting her bare skin and she snuggled closer to him for warmth.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him, their chests pressing together.  ”I love you, too,” he whispered.

She tangled her legs with his and sighed happily against him. “You’re so lovely I might just have to keep you forever,” she mumbled sleepily, the words slipping out before she could stop them and causing her to blush just a bit. “I mean, if that’s okay with you,” she continued, nuzzling gently into his neck.

He kissed her shoulder lightly, smiling at her half-asleep ramblings.  ”Let’s get you into bed,” he said sweetly, “I doubt you want to sleep on the floor the whole night.”  He untangled his limbs from hers carefully, then scooped her up in his arms and placed her on the bed as gently as he could before climbing in next to her.

"Infinitely more comfortable," she yawned softly, immediately curling up against him with her head on his chest and her leg draped over his. Her eyelids felt heavy and she struggled to keep them open for as long as she could. "Forever sounds pretty good, though," she murmured absently. “‘s a good word." She sighed quietly and let her eyes close.

Gary stroked her shoulder as her eyes closed. He had always been the type to split off to his own side of the bed before falling asleep, but with Miranda, he had no problem drifting off while they were still tangled together.

Forever… the word had always made him seize up with panic, nothing lasted forever, it was dangerous to pretend it could. But, as he looked down at her face, her mouth hanging open slightly as she fell deeper into sleep, he wondered if maybe… maybe some things could last that long.


	18. spider

Gary was just about to reach for the soap when he saw it.  His hand freezing in midair, he watched the spider make its way quickly across the sink, right towards the bar of soap.  He backed away quickly, keeping his eyes on it.  As much as he wanted to look away, not knowing where it was would be worse.  

He looked frantically around the room for something to smack it with, but quickly lost his nerve and bolted towards the safety of the bedroom.

She wasn’t anywhere near REM sleep, but Miranda was still slightly annoyed when she heard a commotion outside the bedroom. Reluctantly prying her eyes open she realised the opposite side of the bed was unoccupied, which meant…

Her question was answered when Gary bolted into the bedroom, and she yawned in protest of the noise. “It’s gone three in the morning — what’s got you up this early, you nut?”

He stopped in his tracks when he realized he had woken her up, and tried to look nonchalant, crossing his arms over his chest.  ”Just got up to use the loo,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.  He pressed his lips together nervously, his mind running through all the places the spider could have hidden since he ran off.

She yawned again. “Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? You know our flat isn’t really haunted, right? Stevie was just being ridiculous when she said that because she was the one who ate the half-dozen cupcakes you left in the fridge.” She sat up in bed and watched him curiously.

"I know it’s not haunted," he scoffed, shaking his head.  "There’s… ah… just a spider.  On the sink." he mumbled, embarrassed.

She closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. As much as she loved him, Gary could be a tiny bit of a fraidy cat when it came to mice, geese, snakes… and spiders. She shook her head and got out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown off of the floor and pulling it on. “You want me to go kill it, don’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question; she kissed him on the cheek on her way out of the bedroom.

"Thank you!" he called after her sheepishly.  He sat down on the bed, shuddering a bit as he tried to shake the image of the spider from his mind.  Nothing should have that many legs, in his opinion.

Miranda rolled her eyes in amusement as she wandered sleepily through the kitchen to the bathroom. Turning on the light, she raised her eyebrows when she saw the small spider perched on the edge of the sink. It was a bit mean, but she decided to have a bit of fun with it. “Oh my god,” she said, loud enough that he’d certainly hear it all the way from the bedroom. “I think it’s poisonous. I think it’s a black widow spider!” she shrieked dramatically, trying to hide her laughter as she gave the poor spider a quick and merciful death.

He inhaled sharply, pulling his legs up off the floor and hugging his knees.  ”Be careful!” he called out, his chest tightening as he waited for her to return.

A bit disappointed that he didn’t rush in to rescue her, she flushed the spider and turned off the bathroom light before going back into the bedroom and folding her arms.

"No rescue, then? I could have died!" she said, trying not to grin too much as she sat down on the bed beside him.

He bumped her shoulder with his.  ”And what was I supposed to do?” he asked defensively.  ”Are you sure it was poisonous?  I hope there’s not more of them…” he added nervously.

She was having entirely too much fun having him on. “It was definitely a black widow. I think. I mean, I was half asleep, Gary! My powers of observation are slightly impaired—” she yawned again for emphasis “—but whatever it was, it’s dead now. I did flush it. And I doubt a spider could survive being flushed. Unless there’s some sort of mutant spider that can survive underwater. There could be an entire nest of spiders in the plumbing!”

Gary’s eyes widened, “D’you really think so?”  He rubbed at his neck nervously.  Glancing over at her, he realized she was holding back a smile.  He narrowed his eyes at her.  ”You’re having me on, aren’t you?”  He smacked her playfully on the arm.  ”Rude,” he said, mimicing her tone.

"Oi, that’s my line!" she shot back, breaking into a grin. "And since you are absolutely rubbish at protecting me, I suppose I’ll be the one protecting you tonight, then. From spiders, and mice, and geese…"  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Now can we _please_  go back to bed? I’m shattered.”

"Yes." He covered her hand with his for a moment, stroking her wrist with his.  "Sorry I woke you up."  He climbed back into the bed, landing heavily on top of the pillows.

She shook her head affectionately at him as she crawled under the duvet beside him and immediately leaned over to kiss him goodnight. “‘Night,” she said sweetly before settling down against her pillow and closing her eyes.

"Night," he replied.  He folded his arms over the blanket as he stared up at the ceiling.  "I can’t get rid of that image of spiders living in the plumbing now, thank you."

Miranda groaned quietly and opened her eyes once more, glancing over at him. “Sorry. You can get your revenge in the morning,” she promised him with a yawn. “Okay, seriously, I’m going to sleep now.” She nestled a little further into her pillow and quietly exhaled, waiting for sleep to take hold again.

"Right, sorry," he replied, before going quiet again.  He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, but he couldn’t quiet his mind enough to drift off.  Minutes ticked by, and he flicked his eyes open again with a frustrated sigh.

 He tilted his head over to look at Miranda, who was curled up facing away from him.  Shifting closer to her, he stroked her arm gently.  ”You know,” he whispered, a bit seductively, “The way you ruthlessly took out that spider was pretty sexy, actually…”  He slipped his arm around her waist, pressing up against her.  She gave no response.  ”Miranda?” he said quietly.  He peered over at her face, and realized she had already fallen back asleep.   Defeated, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

She slept sounding for the rest of the night; there were no more spider scares and she didn’t wake until late the following morning. Sometime during the night he’d moved up behind her and his arm was around her waist holding her close. She smiled drowsily and covered his hand with hers, lightly stroking his fingers with her own.

Gary jerked his hand away quickly when he felt Miranda’s fingers on his hand, thinking it was a spider.  He had drifted in and out of sleep all night, never quite able to stay under.  He sat bolt upright, wiping the back of his hand on the duvet and checking to see if the spider had crawled away.

"It’s just me!" she shrieked, flopping down onto her back as he pulled away from her. Rubbing her eyes with her hands, she grinned up at him. "I’m not a spider!"

He blinked sleepily, looking down at his hand, then over at her.  ”Right.”  He laid back down next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist.  ”Morning,” he said quietly, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Morning," she replied cheerfully, her lips brushing lightly against the top of his head as she draped her arms around him and pulled him close. "Sleep well?" she asked a bit skeptically.

He shook his head.  ”Not really,” he sighed, kissing her shoulder, his fingers drifting along her side.

She made a sympathetic sound. “You’re a bit of a fraidy cat, has anyone ever told you that? But you  _are_  the man I’ve chosen to love, so.” She grinned at him. “I guess spider killing will be my job from now on.”

"I’d appreciate that," he said, smiling sheepishly.  "It’s pretty sexy, actually, you mercilessly slaying them like that."

"Oh?" she said, laughing slightly. "It really wasn’t that heroic. Squished it with a bit of loo roll. I don’t even think it was poisonous, either," she teased him, smirking.

"Well, there goes my fantasy," he replied, teasing her right back, "I imagined you with a sword."  

"Do you know how much upper arm strength is required to wield a sword?" she asked incredulously. "Also, where would one acquire a sword at 2am in the middle of Surrey? I mean, we do have that pirate display down in the shop but the swords there are all plastic…" She stretched lazily. "Still, sorry to shatter the fantasy."

"It’s alright," he said, shrugging, "Plenty more where that came from."  He grinned at her mischeviously.

Miranda grinned back at him, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Oh, is there? Care to share?”

"Not at the moment, no," he said innocently, and rolled away from her.  Jumping out of bed, he started to get dressed.  "Pancakes for breakfast?  Least I can do as a thank you."

She pouted for a moment before brightening at the mention of pancakes. “How could I possibly refuse?” she answered, leaping out of bed and grabbing her dressing gown from where she’d left it earlier in the morning. 

He grinned at her, walking around their bed to kiss her on the cheek before heading into the kitchen.  He hummed quietly under his breath as he gathered what he needed, double checking the dishes for insects when he grabbed them. 

Miranda loved watching him cook, so she was more than happy to stay out of the way and let him work. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she propped her head up in her hands and grinned.


	19. slumber party

"I can’t  _believe_  you actually though a bit of sellotape was going to hold back a swarm of bees!” Miranda was shrieking as she practically slid down the stairs in her haste to put as much distance between herself and the bees nest Gary had discovered in the bedroom wall earlier. “I’m absolutely  _not_  sleeping up there tonight!” she added as she stumbled into the darkened shop dragging the duvet and a pillow with her that she’d nicked from the linen closet upstairs.

"It would have worked if it hadn’t fallen off," he shouted back defensively, wincing as he realized that that was, in fact, the definition of  _not_ working.  He slammed the door of their flat behind him as he hurried after her, hoping none slipped through after him, in case Miranda insisted on sleeping in the street.

"Normal people call in professionals for this sort of thing!" she shot back, turning on the lights in the shop and dumping everything onto a beanbag chair. She checked her hair for the hundredth time to make sure there weren’t any bees in it, and even though she once again found nothing she couldn’t shake off that creepy feeling.

"I just think that I should be able to take care of stuff like this," he insisted, jabbing his finger at the ground for emphasis.  He furrowed his brow, frustrated that Miranda didn’t at least appreciate the effort he’d made. 

She folded her arms and stared him down skeptically. “Oh, what about the time the pipe under the sink burst and you took care of it? And then it broke again and almost flooded the entire flat?” She had to hide a slight smile at that particular memory. “I know you’re convinced that you can be all alpha-male about fixing up the flat but… well, can you at least consider your track record and maybe understand why bees invading our home might not be the best thing.”

He sighed heavily, muttering “Bloody bees,” under his breath.  After a moment, he perked back up with an idea.  ”Maybe I could go back up and shoo them out the window,” he suggested.  a plan of attack forming in his head.

"Do you actually think that will work?" Miranda asked, her voice still tinged with skeptism. Even as she spoke she could hear a buzzing sound close by and immediately fled to cower at his side. "Is it in my hair?! Where’s it gone?!"

He curled an arm protectively around her as his eyes darted around the area.  ”I don’t see it anywhere,” he said, “are you sure you saw one?”

Miranda blushed slightly, a bit sheepish at her overreaction. “I heard it?” She slid out of his grasp, once more annoyed. “Oi, now I’m paranoid and it’s all your fault! Why couldn’t you have just called someone to take care of it?” she whined, brushing at her hair nervously to make sure there was nothing nesting in it.

"I can handle it!"  He frowned at her, now more determined to fix the problem himself.  "I don’t know understand why it’s such a big deal, it’s not like you’re allergic…"

"I’m not allergic but I’m terrified! Remember what happened the last time we encountered a bee?" she reminded him, frowning. 

"Hey, that would have worked out in our favor if your mobile hadn’t gone off," he countered.  Sighing, he reached forward and brushed his fingers along her arm, "Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call someone to take care of it first thing in the morning."

Miranda reluctantly relented. “I guess that’s all we can do. I’m not going back up there until it’s all sorted!”

"Fair enough," he said, shrugging, "Not really looking forward to sleeping in a bean bag, though."  He frowned.

"Go share the bedroom with the bees, then," Miranda offered, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, I prefer the company down here though," he smiled at her, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Well, I’m not going back up there, so you’ll just have to stay down  _here_  if you’re so fond of the company,” she said with a grin, draping her arms over his shoulders. “I might even share the duvet.”

 _"Might?"_  he pouted at her, before leaning in to kiss her lightly on the lips.

"I was planning on hiding underneath it just in case any rogue bees found their way down into the shop," she admitted, blushing in embarrassment.

He smiled at her.  ”I’ll try to get them before they get you,” he promised, pleased there was one pest he could face up against.  

"I suppose it’s the very least you can do, since it’s your fault they’re still there in the first place," she teased him, unable to resist.

He started to protest, but then pressed his lips together in a smile.  ”That’s a good point,” he conceded.  ”Let me make it up to you?” his thumb rubbed the small of her back gently.

She stepped closer to him, her arms securing around his neck. “Well, we do have an entire night ahead of us. I’m sure I’ll come up with  _something_.” She grinned suggestively at him before giggling and scanning their surroundings. “But come on, we’re surrounded by toys and there’s no Stevie around to be cross with us…”

Gary’s eyes widened with excitement as he caught on to what she was saying.  ”Yes,” he said, immediately dropping his arms from her waist and turning around to grab a toy off one of the displays.  ”I’ve been wanting to play with these,” he said, pulling the cord on the contraption and sending the spinning doll flying into the air.

Miranda ducked as the colourful doll narrowly missed her head. “Oi, careful!” she said, laughing as she crossed the room and grabbed a toy archery set from one of the displays. Loading a foam arrow into the bow, she launched it at the doll, knocking it out of the air. “They really should make this an Olympic sport,” she giggled.

"Hey!" he protested as the doll hit the ground.  He grabbed another one from the shelf and sent it flying, this time actually aiming it in Miranda’s direction.

Miranda shrieked and batted it away with her hand before grabbing another foam arrow and reloading her bow. She shot it at his chest, where it bounced harmlessly off and onto the ground in a rather disappointing finale. She grinned sheepishly and giggled.

He looked down at the arrow as it hit the floor.  ”Really, that’s all you’ve got?” Then he looked up suddenly, wincing as he clutched his chest where the arrow had hit.  Pretending to gasp for breath, he fell to his knees dramatically, then laid down on the floor, sprawling his arms out in front of him.

She stared for a second, confused, before trying to stifle her giggles and rushing to his side. “Don’t you go all Game of Thrones on me!” she whined as she dropped down onto the ground and shook his shoulder. “Dead, then? That’s a shame. Well, we had a good run, didn’t we?” she sighed. When he didn’t respond, she moved so that his head was resting on her lap, her fingers idly stroking his face. “Well, that’s enough mourning. I’m off to find a new boyfriend.”

He frowned, then opened his eyes.  ”Well, I’m glad to know you’d get over me so quickly if I  _did_  die,” he said, sounding a bit hurt.  ”Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me a bit longer.”  He was going to sit up, but the feel of her fingers on his skin was lovely, and he closed his eyes again.

"Don’t even joke about that," she said quickly, although it had been her who brought the subject up to begin with. "I mean, it barely touched you, I’m sure you won’t actually die, right?" she went on to say. Secretly she was relieved the chances of her boyfriend being skewered to death by an arrow were slim to none, because even the possibility of something happening to him was, as she had said, too awful to even joke about.

"I don’t know," he said, feigning concern, "You might need to perform CPR.  Just in case."  The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

Miranda rolled her eyes as she pushed him off of her lap and onto his back. “Ignoring the fact that I shot you in the chest which would render this all  _ridiculously_ dangerous…” She decided to skip the chest compressions because she didn’t actually want to break his ribs, and instead leaned down and kissed him. That was clearly the bit he was hoping for, anyway, and who was she to deny him that? She had, after all, shot him.

A small noise of surprise escaped as he was pushed onto his back but Gary recovered quickly and leaned his head up slightly to meet her lips with his.  He laced his fingers into her hair, pulling her down towards him.

She gave up on pointing out the plotholes in this rescue scenario and instead let him pull her closer for a proper snog. As she sighed against him and deepened the kiss she realised if they kept this up they’d both run out of breath. The thought caused her to giggle slightly, her hands curling around his upper arms as she kissed him.

He caught her laughter and pulled away slightly as he giggled.  ”What’s so funny?” he teased, “My kissing really that bad?”  He didn’t mind, not really, her ability to burst out laughing in nearly any situation was one of the reasons he was in love with her.

Miranda giggled and trailed her soft kisses down to his neck. “No complaints here whatsoever.” She nuzzled softly into his skin and nibbled gently at it with her teeth.

He murmured softly as he felt her teeth nip at his skin.  Pulling his hands from her hair, he slid them down her neck, his fingers tracing gently over her skin.

Smiling against his neck, she shifted her weight so she was straddling his hips and continued to lavish attention on his heated skin. Clearly any thoughts of CPR had vanished and she was now focusing on those soft sounds he made in response.

He gripped at her thighs, arching his back slightly as her lips grazed his throat.  Bees aside, this evening was turning out  _excellently._

It took every ounce of willpower she had not to rip his clothes off right there in the middle of the shop, although she did consider it has a rather fun way to pass the time. Stevie hadn’t actually found out about the last time they’d had shenanigans there…

Instead she found her way back to his mouth, softly kissing him there once more as her thumb swept gently over his cheek. “I think you’ll live,” she teased him.

"I suppose," he said with a sigh, unable to stop a grin from breaking out across his face.  He ran his hands up and down her back lightly, squirming a bit as the hard floor of the shop became uncomfortable on his back.  

Smiling, she slid off of his lap and rose to her feet. The bow and arrows were pushed aside out of the way, her brief foray into archery abandoned. Knowing her luck she might actually find a way to seriously injure either of them. Instead she wandered over to the counter and picked up one of the notebooks Stevie used to track the day’s sales and profits. “Ooooo, Stevie’s special notebook that nobody’s allowed to write in except for her. We’ll see about that.” Grabbing a furry pen, Miranda drew a frowny face on the corner of one of the pages.

"Are you making rude drawings?" he asked as he stood up, following her over to the counter.  "Well, don’t start without me."  He grabbed a pen and leaned in closer that was strictly necessary, adding a pair of angry eyebrows to Miranda’s frown.

She giggled and used a yellow highlighter to add long hair to the face, turning it into a rather unflattering caricature of Stevie herself. “The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” she asked. Deciding that cartoon Stevie would need a reason to look so cross, Miranda began to doodle an angry looking dinosaur beside her.

Gary burst into giggles at Miranda’s drawings, and began to add scenery next to it.  He started scribbling a volcano in the background, complete with exploding lava.  ”D’you think Stevie will appreciate our artistic talents?”

Miranda shook her head with an evil grin. “Absolutely not, that’s what makes it so much fun. I think it’s brilliant, really. She should frame it and hang it up in her flat.” She scrawled her signature underneath the doodle like an artist before chucking the furry pen at him.

"I just had a brush with death," he teased, "I think you should hold off on throwing things at me, just for a bit."  He signed his name right under Miranda’s.  "Can’t have you taking credit for my contribution."

Miranda laughed and turned to a fresh page. “We could play hangman. Or knots and crosses. Make a list of all the weirdest places we’ve done it,” she added, blushing faintly at the idea before holding up a finger. “No, wait, hang on, getting an idea. You never told Stevie we shagged in here that one time, right?”

"Why on  _earth_  would I tell her that?” he asked incredulously, then, narrowing his eyes, he added, “What sort of idea?”

She merely started sketching out a map of the shop on the paper, grinning evilly. “Because she’d go absolutely mental if she knew we’d had shenanigans in here. So we leave her a map and tell her that we’ve done it somewhere, and she has to guess where.” She knew it was incredibly childish but Stevie could definitely afford to be taken down a peg or two.

He burst out laughing at the idea, leaning on her shoulder as he giggled.  Just as he was starting to catch his breath, he pictured the horrified look on Stevie’s face when she discovered, and started laughing again.  ”You’re an evil genius,” he said affectionately, “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”  He watched her sketch out the map of the shop, slipping an arm around her waist.

He didn’t know what made him think it at that exact moment.  Maybe he was moved by her dinosaur drawing, maybe it was that they turned a frustrating situation into a childish sleepover.  Or maybe it just finally sunk in.  But whatever it was, he knew it with clarity and certainty.

He wanted to marry her.

It had been mulling under the surface for a long time, but it was finally breaking through.  There had been moments when he knew it in part; seeing her at the restaurant for the first time in years, clasping her hand across the table, when he saw her at the train station, when she sleepily said she wanted to keep him forever.  But now he knew it in full.  He wanted to be with her for the rest of her lives, and he wanted her to know that.

He almost blurted it out right then and there, the ‘m’ forming on his lips before he swallowed it.  It wasn’t the time, not quite yet.  He wanted to do it properly this time, with a ring, and maybe even a grand gesture.  (No audience, though, that was for sure.)  Soon, though, as soon as he could.  He didn’t think he could wait much longer.

They had already waited long enough.

Miranda’s grin became more wicked as she pointed out spots on the map. “And of course  _we_  both know it happened here, a whirlwind of passion and lust one Saturday night…” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him before continuing on. “But other possible options include on the beanbag chairs — they really are rather comfy, you know — or on the stairs. Which is probably a safety hazard. Or…” Her finger drifted over the paper towards Stevie’s office. “Maybe we shagged right on her desk,” she suggested, still giggling.

He turned his attention back to what she was saying, still grinning ridiculously, and wrapped his arm a bit tighter around her waist.  ”I think she would actually explode,” he said, “the counter’s bad enough.”  

"You weren’t there the morning after when I had to try and keep a straight face! Luckily I’m an excellent actress so I don’t think she ever cottoned on…" She trailed off, her mind already wandering towards the events of that night. "But you’re absolutely right. We might actually kill her if we were to do something so incredibly _evil_ ,” she agreed, her face the picture of innocence as she grinned at him.

"Is that a suggestion?" he asked, flashing her a cheeky smile.  He cupped her face with her free hand, grazing his thumb over her cheek.

Miranda glanced from the piece of paper over to the door to Stevie’s office, still grinning. “I suggested nothing!”

He pulled his arms from her, crossing them over his chest.  ”Oh, sorry, my mistake,” he said, trying to look as oblivious as possible, but holding back a laugh.

"Apology accepted, thank you very much," Miranda replied sweetly, turning back to the map and tapping the pen against the paper, trying to focus.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss against the back of her neck.  ”Are you sure you don’t want to…,” he whispered against her skin, letting the rest of the sentence drop off suggestively.

She immediately pressed back against him, biting her lip with a cheeky grin and her eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation. “You’ve convinced me,” she said cheekily. “C’mon.” She twisted out of his arms and grabbed his hand, leading their way through the darkened shop towards Stevie’s office.

He hurried along behind her, squeezing her hand slightly.  As they crossed the threshold into the office, he pulled her towards him, sliding his other hand over her waist and kissing her, long and lingering.

When he kissed her, her giggling faded away as she wrapped her arms around him and responded with equal fervor. It felt daring, forbidden, and ridiculously evil getting up to shenanigans in Stevie’s personal space, but she could hardly care about that when he was kissing her.

He sighed into the kiss, already overwhelmed by her, by the feel of her pressed against him, by the taste of her lips, by the thought that he might get to do this for the rest of his life.  His hands roamed over her, up her sides and down her back, covering every inch that he already knew so well.

Her body pressed insistently against his; even through her clothes his hands felt like they were everywhere and she let her own wander over his shoulders and back before burying them in his hair. Anticipation, excitement, and arousal started to course through her as one of her fantasies actually began to play out in reality. 

He leaned into her so intensely that he stumbled forward slightly.  After catching himself, he slipped his hands just under the hem of her shirt, his fingers fluttering over her soft skin.  He guided them gently towards the desk, pressing her up against it.

She never stopped kissing him, not even when she felt the edge of the desk. She never  _wanted_ to stop kissing him. Instead she moaned his name against his lips, her eyes still closed and her fingers still threaded into his hair.

He pulled his hands from her just long enough to clear off the space behind her, flinging pens and papers to the floor.  Pushing her up onto the desk, he kissed along her jaw and down her neck as he slid his hands back under her shirt, beginning to work at the clasp of her bra.

Perched rather precariously on the edge of the desk, she pulled him closer while he worked on undressing her. Her fingers itched to do the same, to pull off his clothes so she could run her hands over his skin. The feel of his lips on her neck elicited shivers along her spine. Impatient, she slid one hand between them to undo his trousers.

As her clothing dropped to the floor he started moving farther down her body, moving his lips along her shoulder, her collarbone.  He slid a hand over her bare breast, his other digging into her lower back.

His lips felt like fire, leaving heat on her skin in their wake. She sat back on the desk, one hand gripping the edge of it to hold herself upright as the other continued its attempts to undress him and even the playing ground a bit. 

He lavished over her breasts with kisses as he finished tugging off her clothing, pausing only long enough to cooperate with her own efforts.  Her warm skin pressed against his and he inhaled sharply.  With a knowing smile, he dropped to his knees, sliding his fingertips along her thighs.

She tightened her hold on the desk, feeling like she might fall over if she let go. As his fingertips traced over her skin she heard her breath quicken. It was thrilling enough doing anything naughty here of all places, but when she realised what he wanted to do she could only murmur his name softly and try not to blush.

He parted her thighs gently, trailing achingly slow, light kisses along the soft skin of her inner thigh.  When he reached the center, he paused for just a moment, flicking his eyes upward to watch her reaction.

She wasn’t at all surprised when he went still; he enjoyed teasing her and trying her patience. She locked eyes with him and trying to slow her racing heart. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” she managed to say between her ragged breaths, but it was clear from the grin on her face and her flushed skin that she wasn’t complaining.

He chuckled softly under his breath before finally leaning in, flicking his tongue over her, feeling her heat against his face.  His nails dug into her legs slightly as he sped up slightly.

Her gasp was ragged, his name slipping from her lips as she reached down and grabbed his hair, her head falling back. She could feel his hot breath against her, his lips and tongue working over her without hesitation which just made her want him even more desperately. Her fingers clenched around his hair, her other hand grasping at the desk helplessly.

He loved doing this to her, feeling her react to his touch, hearing her sigh his name. Her fingers tangling in his hair urged him on and he buried himself into her, intensifying his movements.

She held herself together for as long as she could, but as always it wasn’t long before his touch overwhelmed her, sending her spiraling out of control with a cry of his name. Her fingers pulled at his hair and her chest heaved with shaking gasps as it rushed through her, every limb trembling.

He pulled back as she stilled, placing one more kiss on her thigh before  standing back up and wrapping his arms around her.

She leaned into his arms, dazed and satisfied. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and she sighed against his neck. “Lovely,” she murmured with a content smile.

His hands drifted over her back as he kissed along her shoulder.  They began soft and affectionate, but quickly intensified, desire still coursing through him.

Her skin still tingled and her heart was still racing when she felt his hands once more moving over her body. She barely concealed her grin against his shoulder as her legs wrapped around his, pulling him closer to her.

He gasped softly as he pressed up against her, his fingers digging into her back, matching her force.  He wanted her desperately,  _needed_ her.  He let her name fall off his lips and sink into her skin.

Her head rocked back as he kissed her neck. There were still those moments when she thought this was all one long dream that had somehow lasted nine months. But when he looked at her a certain way, when he kissed her, when he touched her, it all felt very, very real. She held tightly to that feeling as tightly as she now held onto him as his breath washed over her skin causing her to shiver.

He couldn’t bear it any longer, his toes curling as he ached for her.  Reaching between them, he fluttered his fingers over her once more before slipping into her.  He let out a sigh as he rocked against her, gripping her hips and burying his head into the curve of her neck.

She let a quiet moan of relief and pleasure escape from her, her legs tightening around him to keep him close. Her hands moved over his back, fingers scraping and scratching against his heated skin. Her eyes slid closed as she lost herself in the sensation of him moving into her, of his strong arms around her.

He found a rhythm, slow and strong, his breathing hot and heavy against her neck.  He was so lost in the sensations of her that he forgot this had started as a revenge plot, all he was thinking of was the sound of her voice and the feel of her against him, and how madly, ridiculously in love he was with every part of her.  He lifted his head to look at her, to watch as her expression twisted with pleasure.

As the sensations within her suddenly intensified, she moaned and bucked her hips up against his, her hands grasping at him seeking purchase. The things he made her feel — ecstasy, desire, love — overwhelmed her when they were like this and all she could do was surrender. Her eyes flew open and locked with his, her breathing rapid and her movements becoming more erratic.

He couldn’t help but smile when her eyes met his.  Breathing out her name, he moved faster, squinting his eyes shut as he drew closer to the edge.  He slid his hands to her back, pressing her even closer to him, their skin sticking together.

She grinned at him in silent reply, holding him tightly to her as they moved together. Her hand slid into his hair, fingers running through it. As she felt him begin to slip along with her, she kissed over his neck and shoulder, muffing her moans against his skin. With a strangled cry, she shuddered against him and came, still clinging tightly to him as her body tensed in his arms.

Her cry pushed him over and he clung to her, his knees weakening.  He slumped against her, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

As soon as the world came back into focus she remembered they were in Stevie’s office, and she quietly giggled against his shoulder. Her fingers lazily stroked over his back as she sighed contently. “Even if Stevie kills me, it was worth it,” she decided with a satisfied smile.

"Definitely."  He grinned, reaching a hand up to stroke her hair lightly.  His eyes wandered over the room and he noticed the papers he had strewn about the room.  "Should we bother cleaning up?" he asked, "Or leave it for her to find?"

She lifted her head up from his shoulder to survey the damage. “Oh, leave it for now. Although I might have to remember to clean up in the morning.” She kissed him lightly before scanning the room for her discarded clothes.

He smiled into the kiss, sighing quietly.  He placed another kiss quickly on her forehead before reluctantly pulling away and starting to collect their clothes.

As she slowly got dressed again, Miranda took another look around Stevie’s office to make sure they’d retrieved everything. Satisfied at last, she turned towards him, flinging her arms affectionately around his neck and grinning. “So, we can check off ‘Stevie’s office’, then?”

Laughing, he asked, “Has the map become a goal list?”  He raised his eyebrows.  ”I mean, not that I’m complaining.”  Slipping his arms around her waist, he squeezed her tightly.

She joined in his laughter, blushing slightly. “Oi, I only wrote down places we’ve already done it. I’ve got a whole  _other_  list of places I want to have my way with you.” Giggling, she slid out of his grasp, finishing up buttoning her shirt as she did.

His eyes widened as he trailed after her.  ”I’m not sure if I should ask, or wait to be surprised,” he mused.

She said nothing in reply, merely grinning at him before plopping down onto one of the bean bag chairs and stretching her legs out in front of her. “Normally I’d be able to crawl into bed and get some sleep, but that’s out of the question tonight,” she said, her smile turning into a frown for a moment as she pouted. “Bloody bees.”

He perched on the edge of the chair next to her.  ”Budge over,” he said, nudging her in the arm.

She moved over a tiny bit, still taking up most of the space on the squishy chair. “There’s a perfectly good bean bag right under you, you know! What’s so much better about this one?”

He scooted over to take the vacant space, though he was still only half on the chair.  ”That one’s not as soft.”  He hooked his leg around hers.  The truth was, it had been so long since he’d fallen asleep without his arms around her, that he wasn’t sure he was still able to.

She bumped her shoulder against his playfully, rolling her eyes slightly at his rubbish excuse. “If you insist on sharing, then,” she sighed dramatically, scooting over to try and give him more room and nearly falling off the edge as a result.

He wrapped his arm arm around her as he settled into the chair.  There was only barely enough room for them, but it would work well enough. Cuddling up to her, he sighed happily and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

She longed for the coziness of their bed but couldn’t deny that this was quite lovely, nestled in at his side with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. Trying to get comfortable next to him, the excitement of the evening slowly began to hit her and she hid a yawn behind her hand. If this really was a sleepover, she didn’t want to be the first one to fall asleep.

"Sleepy already?" he teased, trying to suppress his own yawn.  Grabbing the duvet off the floor, he pulled it up over them.  He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

She pouted a bit, defensive. “Well, I worked a full shift, then did a sprint down the stairs to avoid a swarm of bees, had sex in my best friend’s office… you know, a full day’s worth of excitement.” Laughing softly, she burrowed under the duvet and sighed sleepily.

"Fair enough," he replied he replied, his voice soft and drowsy.  His eyes were now too heavy to open again and he began to drift off to sleep.

She was surprised he actually had fallen asleep first; usually she was the first to go. She didn’t think she’d ever actually watched him fall asleep before, but then again she was quickly doing the same and couldn’t clearly remember.

She found his hand under the duvet and interlocked their fingers, her head resting on his as she fell asleep.

"What on earth are you two doing down here?" Gary sat up quickly, blinking in the bright daylight streaming in through the windows.  Stevie was standing in front of them, hands perched angrily on her hips.  "And what exactly happened to my desk?  It’s a mess in there!"

He squinted at her, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  ”Morning, Stevie.”

Miranda woke up to the sound of voices, rubbing at her stiff neck with her hand before opening her eyes to find Stevie glowering down at them.

"Morning, Stevie," she echoed Gary with a yawn. "Erm, sorry about the mess. There was… some… seismic activity last night?" she lied, flustered.

Stevie crossed her arms across her chest.  ”Right, well, I’d make you clean it up but then it would all be out of order.”  She stormed off to her office, still muttering under her breath.

Gary swung his arm around Miranda’s shoulder.  ”Morning to you, too,” he said sweetly.

"And you two had better sort yourselves out before we open!" Stevie called from the other room.

She fell back against the chair, giggling at Stevie’s outburst. “We can’t ever tell her what went on in there,” she whispered once she’d caught her breath. “If she figures it out, we might have to flee the country.”

"Could be fun, though," he replied, "We could go to Rome, or Prague, or Paris…" he trailed off as things began to click together in his brain.  He stroked her knee lightly with his fingers as he thought for a moment.  The restaurant had been running smoothly enough that he could probably get away for a few days…  Especially for this… "Actually, maybe we should get away for a bit," he suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

"I’m completely for going away on hols, not as fugitives hiding from her wrath," she agreed with a laugh before she realised what he was suggesting. "Hang on. though, you never take a holiday. Not since you bought the restaurant, anyway. Why the sudden desperation to get away?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, uh, you know…" Gary bobbed his head nervously.  "Just sounded like a good idea?"  He looked down at the ground, still stammering.  "We’ve just… never gone on holiday together…  So I thought…"

Miranda was already sitting up a bit straighter, rather hard to do in a bean bag chair, and grinning. “Are you suggesting we shirk all responsibility and go somewhere? Together?” Her eyes lit up at the idea of spending some time alone with him. “I mean, Paris does sound lovely… and I’ve always wanted to go…”

Her excitement calmed his nerves a bit and he looked back up at her, smiling.  ”So have I,” he agreed.  ”Maybe we could go next week?”  He grinned awkwardly, hoping she wouldn’t get suspicious.  It was incredibly sudden, he knew, but to him it still seemed achingly far away. _  
_

Overwhelmed by the prospect of visiting one of the places she’d always wanted to see, she brushed aside her usual reservations about showing too much emotion and flung herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly for a moment. “You’re brilliant!” She was already trying to sort out what to pack. Maybe she should buy a beret.


	20. paris (part I)

It had been ten days since he had decided to marry her.  Ten days of almost bursting from excitement and nerves at every turn.  Ten days of planning and worrying and reminding himself that she  _had_  hinted that she’d say yes, though it did very little to calm him. 

He had spent his afternoons sneaking away from work to go ring shopping, frantically texting Stevie for her opinions on what Miranda would like.  (According to Stevie he had rubbish taste, and she eventually insisted on coming with him.)  And he had spent his nights sleeping fitfully, never able to calm his mind down enough to rest.  He hadn’t slept at all the night before, though he had pretended to, burying his face in his pillow and pretending to snore for good measure.

And now they were on the train, speeding along towards Paris, watching the scenery blur outside the window. He curled his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him and kissing her hair softly.  ”I love you,” he whispered, his lips still brushing against her hair.  

If pressed, Miranda would admit that walking into the train station again felt just a bit unsettling. The last time she’d pushed through the crowds it had been to run away, to escape. Coming back from Scotland had been the same thing — no longer satisfied with the new life she’d tried to make she’d run back to what had been familiar, even it were still painful.

But this was completely different. This was nine months later, and things were wonderful. Things had been going so exceptionally well that she’d finally started to stop her constant fretting that something awful was going to happen. And when Gary had suggested Paris, she had jumped at the chance. It had been a bit of a wait afterward, especially when she’d tried to convince Stevie to let her take time off. The tiny blonde pixie had been resistant at first before suddenly having a change of heart and insisting that she go for as long as she wanted.

At least the train ride wasn’t as bad as the one to Scotland, Miranda thought to herself now as she leaned her head on Gary’s shoulder and grinned excitedly. She hadn’t slept a wink during the night but hadn’t wanted to wake him, so she was planning on having a bit of a nap.

She glanced up at him when he spoke. “I love you, too. This was such an excellent idea. You’re brilliant.”

He smiled shyly and nodded in response.  He hoped it was a brilliant idea.  Part of him still worried that maybe it was still too soon, maybe she still thought they weren’t ready, or maybe she had changed her mind.  He stroked her shoulder lightly with his thumb and tried not to fidget, mentally counting down the minutes until they arrived.

She wasn’t sure why he was being so quiet; unlike her he’d slept well the night before as proven by a rare burst of snoring at one point. She’d been tempted to hit him with a pillow much like she used to back in uni but decided at least one of them should be well rested enough to navigate through a new country.

Yawning softly, she curled up in her seat beside him and tried to get comfortable. The seats in train carriages, while plush, weren’t exactly the best for tall people, but she was too excited to care. She nuzzled against his shoulder sleepily before closing her eyes and letting the gentle sway of the train lull her to sleep.

He leaned his head on hers as she dozed against his shoulder.  He wouldn’t mind sleeping himself, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to until he had an answer.  He sighed softly as he watched the countryside fly past them.

She woke when the train slowed to a stop; disorientated from sleep, she peered over his shoulder out the window at the station and at all the signs in French. She really wished she’d given that French class another go.

Once she got her bearings, it clicked that everything was in French because they were in Paris. She excitedly grabbed his hand and leaped out of her seat. “We’re actually here!”

He jerked forward as she pulled him along, only stopping long enough to get their bags.  ”We are!” he said, squeezing her hand, his voice slightly strained.  He was getting more nervous the closer they got, so he tried to focus on logistics.  ”I guess we should go check in at the hotel?”

She squeezed his hand in reply, stepping close to kiss him on the cheek before they got off the train. He seemed a bit jumpy but she chalked it up to the long train ride. Once they were settled in they’d be able to relax.

 _"Aprez vouz!"_ Miranda said happily, nudging him forward.

"So I made dinner reservations," Gary said as he dumped his backpack on the bed.  "Thought it’d be nice to start the trip off with a nice meal," he winced as he realized how many times he’d said nice in a row.  He reached into the pocket of his backpack to slip out the small velvet box.  But it was empty.  He frowned and began to check the other pockets.  His search became more frantic, and soon he was pulling everything out onto the bed.

Miranda was busy rummaging through her suitcase for her beret when she noticed Gary upending his bag onto the bed. Abandoning her own search, she skipped over to his side and regarded the mess he’d made with a critical eye. “We’re only here for a few days, do you really need to make it as messy as our bedroom back home?” she teased him.

"Sorry, I just… uh…" he shook out his clothes piece by piece, hoping it would roll out.  "Wanted to unpack."  It was a feeble excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything better when his stomach was slowly sinking.  It might have fallen out in the train or on the street… but then he remembered.  He had been about to get it out of its hiding place in the back of one of his drawers when Miranda had come bursting into their bedroom with a long and ridiculous story about a customer. And he had never gone back to get it.

She rolled her eyes slightly. “Come on, that can wait until later! We’re in Paris! We need to go out and see the sights, eat the food, soak up the culture, eat more food…” She took him by the arm and grinned. “Come onnnnn.”

"Right, okay," he was in too much of a daze to say much else.  His mind was reeling.  He couldn’t  _believe_ what an idiot he was, botching another proposal. Should he even still propose?  Should he wait until they got back?  What if she thought it was another impulsive decision?  That he didn’t really mean it?  He shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts, but it was futile. _  
_

Picking up her purse, she noticed he seemed distracted still. She was impatient to get out and explore the city, but she was also just a bit worried about him now. “Did you forget something at home? Because I’m sure we can just pick up another while we’re out,” she reassured him in an attempt to cheer him up.

He smiled half-heartedly at her, appreciating her concern, but unfortunately he couldn’t just go pick up another engagement ring.  ”No, it’s fine,” he said dismissively, “Let’s go.”  He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek, trying to concentrate on the fact that he was in Paris with the woman he loved more than anything, and not on his bumbling mistakes.

Their first venture out into the streets of Paris found them following the winding pavements through the city. After stopping in at one of the tiny cafes for a plate of pastries (which she could have finished on her own, thank you very much) they found themselves in front of one of the fountains in the city square. Carried away by the romance of it all, she could help but kiss him right there in front of everyone, a moment that left her blushing afterward.

Her kiss left him breathless.  He beamed at her, his eyes locked with hers.  Reaching forward, he tucked her hair behind her ear, grazing his fingers over her neck before dropping his hand.

The missing ring still buzzed in the back of his mind, but wandering the city with Miranda calmed him enough that he was actually able to enjoy himself.  Their hands swung between them as they resumed their stroll, and eventually they found themselves crossing a bridge covered in locks.  The sun was beginning to loom low in the sky, prompting Gary to check his watch.  ”We should probably get back to the hotel to change for dinner,” he suggested as his nervousness rapidly returned.

She wasn’t sure why he was so eager to get to dinner, but the prospect of delicious French food was enough to make her grip his hand a bit more tightly and walk just a bit more quickly back to the hotel.

She changed into one of her favourite dresses, still feeling a bit in the dark about what exactly he had planned. But as she slipped on her shoes and then picked up her purse, she took a moment to just take it all in — that she was finally in Paris, that Gary was with her, and that adventures were absolutely more fun when you weren’t alone.

Gary fiddled nervously with the sleeves of his blue dress shirt while he waited for Miranda to finish getting ready.  He nonchalantly checked through his things again, just to make  _absolutely certain_ the ring wasn’t there.  Once she grabbed her purse, he took her hand and led them outside.

Though the restaurant wasn’t far from the hotel, he did get them slightly lost on the way there.  He was going over his speech in his head again, and completely missed a turn.  He figured it out soon enough, though, and they made their reservation just in time.

They slipped into their seats in a quiet corner of the restaurant, and Gary stared down at the menu intently, his leg jiggling nervously under the table.

Of course the menu was in French, and Miranda studied it carefully trying to figure out what everything was and what would be the most delicious.

She allowed herself a quick peek at Gary over the top of her menu, smiling to herself when she saw that he was concentrating on the menu just as hard as she was. He looked devastatingly gorgeous in his crisp dress shirt, and her fingers involuntarily itched as she thought about how she wanted to tangle them in his hair and snog him again like she had at the fountain.

Catching herself daydreaming, she quickly decided on what to order and set her menu down with a grin. “I could probably order one of everything if I could read any of it,” she giggled.

He chuckled softly, still looking down at the menu.  The words swam in front of him.  He sighed and closed the menu, clearing his throat.  ”Miranda, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.  Or, well, ask you…”  He paused, taking a deep breath.

She looked at him across the table, curiousity distracting her from her rumbling stomach. “What is it? Please don’t make me guess, you know I’m absolutely rubbish at it.”

"This has been the best year of my life," he started, his leg fidgeting even more quickly as he spoke.  "And I know it probably looks bad that I don’t have a ring, but I promise this isn’t impulsive, I just forgot it at home and…" his speech had suddenly gone off the rails, and he tried to collect himself.  His heart was pounding so fiercely he thought it might beat right out of his chest.  "There was a moment, when I realized that I wasn’t scared anymore, when I knew for sure… and when there’s a moment…" he was stammering, he knew, and he cut to the chase.  "Miranda… will you be my wife?"

Suddenly his odd behaviour made sense, which was where her mind first went. It took her another few seconds to realise what he was actually saying, and she froze in disbelief. For a moment she just stared at him with surprise in her eyes, her pulse starting to quicken. Part of her thought she’d misheard him, that this was just a hallucination or a fantasy. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the sincerity, the nerves, the hope.

"Are you— is this actually— Are you asking me to marry you?" she managed to reply, already feeling the emotions threatening to completely overflow and render her incapable of giving him her answer.

He nodded, unable to speak.  The disbelief in her voice terrified him, and he felt his chest tightening as he waited for her to answer.  He had almost convinced himself she would say yes, but doubt crept back in as the seconds ticked by.

She beamed happily at him, her heart feeling lighter than she thought possible. “Of course I will, you nut,” she said, the words slipping easily past her lips, as instinctive and automatic as breathing.

A grin spread across his face as her answer registered.  ”Really?” he asked, almost unable to believe it.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks starting to ache from smiling at him. “Really. I mean, we did have an arrangement. And I think I can say with absolute certainty that you’re the one,” she added, still grinning with giddy happiness. “But I mean, that could change by tomorrow so you should probably just… accept my acceptance of your proposal.” She started to giggle.

"Alright," he said, laughing softly.  His shoulders dropped as he relaxed for the first time in over a week.  Reaching across the table to take her hand, he beamed at her, wanting desperately to lunge over the table and kiss her right there.

She intertwined her fingers with his, her heart soaring with excitement and happiness. As she looked into his eyes she could almost see glimpses of the future, what she’d always hoped for, and even the things she’d never thought she actually wanted until she fell in love with him. “This is actually happening, isn’t it?” she said, grinning, her hands trembling slightly. She was so excited she felt like she would burst if she kept it in any longer.

"Yeah," he replied, his legs bouncing with excitement now instead of nerves.  Unable to resist any longer, he jumped up, reaching over the table to pull her into a kiss.  He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb tracing over her jaw.

She threw her arms around his neck as he kissed her; she found it impossible to stop bursting into fits of giddy laughter every time she thought about what was happening. He’d just proposed and this was absolutely ridiculous and wonderful, wasn’t it? Squeezing him just a bit tighter, her lips curved up into a smile against his.

When he finally pulled away for air, Gary realized a waiter was giving them a very stern look, with his arms folded across his chest.  He smiled sheepishly at Miranda.  ”Maybe we should skip dinner?”

She nodded eagerly, giggling under her breath as she noticed they had an audience. “Normally I never skip food of any kind, but I think these are exceptionally special circumstances,” she decided, grabbing his hand.

As soon as they were outside the restaurant, Gary pulled her towards him again, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning into the kiss.  She was going to be his wife, and he couldn’t believe how ridiculously lucky he was.  He sighed happily as he kissed her.

She immediately relaxed against him; she was still a bit shy about snogging in plain view of everyone but it wasn’t like there was anyone around that knew them. And this was hardly the right time to hold back her emotions. So she threw herself completely into it, into him, flinging her arms around his neck.

"I really am sorry I don’t have the ring," he said sheepishly when they finally broke apart.  He hugged her, burying his head into the curve of her neck and smiling against her skin.

She ran her hands over his back as he hugged her, grinning so wide she felt her cheeks begin to ache. “It doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t. You can just propose again when you have it,” she joked, giggling. “And this time you’ll already know the answer. Bit of a spoiler then, I guess.” 

He laughed, his breath warm against her skin.  ”Less stressful though,” he said as he released her.  ”Let’s go back to the hotel, we could get some champagne and celebrate?”  He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

"That sounds lovely," she agreed, positively beaming as she fell into step beside him and they began to walk back towards their hotel. The evening was pleasantly cool and his hand was warm in hers. There was a bounce in her step as they walked; she was still so happy and overwhelmed that she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with herself.

He stroked her hand lightly with his thumb as they walked through the city.  Gary couldn’t help but glance over at her every few steps, a ridiculous grin still spread across his face.  They cut through a park, following a path that wove through trees and gardens.

She wasn’t entirely convinced he knew where he was going; really it seemed like their hotel was in the opposite direction but she didn’t really mind. As long as they were together she was certain they’d find some way to celebrate. She let him lead the way through the park, admiring the flowers and the beautiful sunset.

He wasn’t in any particular hurry to get back to the hotel; they did have all the time in the world, after all.  As they crested a hill, he stopped suddenly, pulling her close.  ”Hi,” he said softly, his lips hovering just slightly in front of hers, his hand already weaving into her hair.

"Hello," she murmured quietly in reply, still smiling. She could feel his breath against her lips and she boldly closed the tiny distance between them to softly kiss him, slow and sweet.

He sighed happily against her lips as she kissed him, his eyes fluttering closed.  He felt his knees begin to weaken and he rocked forward, leaning into her, his hand still clasped with hers.

She felt his weight shift onto her and she stumbled backwards, one arm instinctively snaking around his waist to keep herself upright. But the uneven ground of the hill, the slightly damp grass under her feet, and her general lack of balance all combined to work against her, and they both fell down onto the grass together.

Gary let out a small gasp of surprise as they went tumbling down.  They rolled down the hill in a tangled heap.  Despite their efforts to stop themselves, they ended up at the bottom of the hill, halfway into a large shrub.  He winced slightly as he propped himself up on one elbow.  ”Are you alright?” he asked, brushing hair gently out of her face.

"And to think people think that rolling down hills is genuinely fun," she grumbled under her breath, gingerly shifting underneath him to make sure nothing was seriously injured. "I think I’ll live, which is good, or else this would have been a rather short engagement." She looked up at him and smiled.

He smiled back at her and leaned down to kiss her again.  They were hidden from view of the path; there was no reason they couldn’t continue what they had started.  He kissed her deeply, shifting his weight onto her.

Sliding her arms around his middle, she pulled him down on top of her until they were completely tangled together. His kisses left her breathless, even moreso than usual. Every time he touched her it felt even more electric than it normally did and she knew it was because of what he’d done and what was still to come. 

He ran his hands up and down her body as he kissed her, his fingers already tugging at the fabric of her dress.  Every kiss became more heated and passionate, and he found himself letting out a quiet moan against her lips.

The sound of his voice urged her onward and as their kissing carried on she let out a sigh of her own, the feeling of his hands sweeping over her body already overwhelming her. It was clear they wouldn’t be making it back to the hotel anytime soon, and with that final decision she pulled at the buckle on his belt to undo it. 

He gripped at her more tightly as she unfastened his trousers, moving his kisses down her throat.  His teeth scraped lightly on her skin, and he slid his hands under the hem of her dress, skidding them along the smooth skin of her thighs.

There was only a very small part of her that was nervous about possibly being caught having shenanigans in a public park after dark, but it was becoming incredibly difficult to focus on that minor detail when Gary’s hands were sneaking under the skirt of her dress. She tried to push his trousers down over his hips but quickly became distracted by the feel of his lips and teeth against her skin.

Smiling against her skin, he slipped his fingers under the edge of her knickers, just for a second, before moving his hand to slide over her stomach. His lips travelled further down, brushing over her collarbone.

His maddening teasing was slowly driving her crazy and she impatiently reached for his shirt, only managing to undo a few of the buttons before she once more was distracted. Her hands slid over what little bare skin they could find, feeling his heartbeat as she did. She laid her head back on the grass and looked up at the sky which was shifting from pink to dark blue.

He mumbled her name as he shifted against her, his hands wandering over her warm skin.  She had abandoned her attempts at undressing him, so he moved to finish them, tracing his fingers down her legs before wriggling out of his trousers.  His hands gravitated back to her quickly, unable to stay away from her for more than a few seconds.

With his trousers finally out of the way she tangled her legs with his, feeling his bare skin against her own. Her hands slowly crept down his back to his bottom, giving it a playful pinch as she grinned up at him.

He yelped, pulling away from her for a moment. “Hey,” he said playfully, biting his lip to keep from smiling.  He pinched at her hip gently in retaliation, before hooking his fingers under her knickers once again.

She giggled and lifted her hips up slightly to help him finish undressing her, kicking the last bit of fabric off of her legs and out of the way before she slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him close again.

He gasped as she pulled him to her, the chilly evening air pricking against his bare skin.  His hand slipped between her legs, his fingertips swirling over her as he watched for her to react to his touch. 

She gasped out his name, her breath stuttering slightly as her head rocked back against the soft grass. She felt her skin flush with heat and her fingers tangled into his hair.

His eyes were locked on her as she tilted her head back.  He loved seeing the effect he had on her, loved that he could make her feel this way. (That he was the only one that did didn’t hurt, either.)  It was incredibly sexy, watching her slowly lose control.  His fingers moved more quickly as he pressed himself against her.

As his movements quickened so did hers; her hips bucked up to meet his hand, her fingers gripped his hair more tightly, and her chest heaved with her ragged breathing. She was torn between letting him work her up to the brink as he now was and stopping him so they could get on with it properly, such was her desperation to have him, to know that he was hers and soon would be hers  _forever._

Then again, if they had forever, there was no need to rush, was her last coherent thought, and with that she pulled at his hair and moaned his name, feeling the tension begin to coil in her body.

He couldn’t bear to wait any longer.  He needed to be closer to her, to feel every part of her moving against him.  Shifting to his knees, he leaned down to kiss her once more before sliding into her with a groan of her name.

Her eyes drifted closed as she felt him slip into her and then a moment later she felt his lips on hers. She murmured his name softly, wrapping her legs around him so that they were as close as they could be. 

 They moved together, their bodies meeting in a steady rhythm.  ”I love you,” he rasped between ragged breaths.  He needed to say it, even though she already knew, even though it was completely obvious.  He dug his hands into the grass beneath them, pressing into her even harder.

She tore her mouth from his long enough to reply, her voice shaking: “I love you, too.” And then she felt herself being swept away once more, her kisses sloppy and desperate, her fingers digging into his damp skin.

He would never tire of hearing her say that.  Though the first time she said it had been terrifying, it was also thrilling and now that the fear was gone… it was one of the best sounds in the world.  He slowed just for a moment to kiss her cheek lightly before picking back up.

She was overwhelmed; from the feel of his body moving against hers, the sound of his voice, her toes curling into the soft grass beneath them reminding her that they were actually doing this outside, that they were in Paris. That he had proposed and they could do this every day for the rest of their lives. She cried out his name softly as everything began to intensify, her hands grasping at his back.

His limbs began to tremble as he drew closer, his breathing becoming more labored and his chest heaving.  He groaned, barely able to hold himself together.

She buried her face into his shoulder as she spilled over the edge, her body shaking under his and her voice muffled against his skin. Her heart beat so quickly she was worried it would burst out of her chest and she held on tightly to him.

Her release pushed him to his and he gasped out her name, his damp skin sticking to hers.  He relaxed on top of her, nuzzling into her neck as he caught his breath.

Dazed, she curled her arm around his back and swallowed hard as if she were trying to force her heart back down into her chest. She softly kissed his temple, lips brushing lightly against his skin. Usually after something like this she’d crack a joke because really, it wasn’t like them to take things so seriously. But this was different. Everything was about to change, or maybe it wasn’t. She was entirely unsure of what was going to happen, but it was important enough that she simply stroked he fingers over his back and exhaled in satisifcation.

He laid there for a few moments, kissing the curve of her neck lightly, listening to the sound of her breathing.  Eventually he rolled off to the side, smiling sweetly at her. 

She smiled back at him, her cheeks still warm. She leaned in and kissed him on the nose before slowly sitting up and fixing the skirt of her dress and retrieving her knickers; she wasn’t about to go commando after her last experience with it. She realised they had, finally, done it al fresco and began to giggle.

"What’s so funny?" he asked as he tugged his trousers back on.  After he stood, he offered his hand out to help her up.

She got to her feet and dusted some bits of grass off of her dress before reaching out to do the same to his shirt, her hands lingering on his chest and arms for a bit longer than they needed to. “We can tick off ‘al fresco’ now,” she said with a cheeky grin.

"We can," he murmured, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close.  He wrapped his other arm around her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her again.

She slid her arms over his shoulders and lightly clasped them together behind his neck. “And ‘in a foreign country’,” she added between kisses. “I’ll admit I’m having  _loads_  of fun ticking everything off with you.” She kissed him again, thinking to herself that #1 on her list had been ‘fall in love’, and he’d helped her with that one without realising it.

He probably could have stayed there kissing her forever, but the cold wind prickled at his neck and he shivered.  Holding her a bit more tightly, he whispered, “We should probably head back.”  He shivered again, and leaned his forehead against hers.

Miranda nodded slightly, not wanting to move away from him. It was with reluctance that she finally did, unwinding her arms from around his neck and taking his hand instead. They began to walk in the direction that they came, through the park and back towards their hotel.

His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand as they walked through the city under the glow of the street lamps. Once they arrived back at the hotel room, Gary kissed Miranda on the forehead. “I’ll go get us some champagne,” he said, slipping out the door before Miranda could protest. Once he was down the hall, he pulled out his mobile.

“You did  _what?_ ” Stevie asked in disbelief.

“I know, I’m an idiot, but could you  _please_  bring it? I’ll owe you a favor.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

Gary slipped the phone back into his pocket as he headed back to their room. “Back, sorry,” he said as he walked in.

Miranda was leafing through the room service menu when Gary came back into the room. She took note that he was empty-handed and raised an eyebrow. “No luck on the champers, then? I think we can just order a bottle…” She grinned to herself as she flipped to the dessert section.

“Right, sorry,” he said sheepishly; he had completely forgotten about the champagne. He sat down next to her and leaned over to look at the menu. “That looks good,” he said, pointing to a slice of chocolate cake.

She quickly agreed. “Can’t go wrong with chocolate cake. Or any kind of cake, really. And especially when one needs to celebrate,” she added, her gaze affectionate as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. She still couldn’t believe it and she wasn’t entirely sure she ever completely would.

He got up to make the order, and when he sat back down, he wrapped his arms around Miranda’s waist. Laying back, he pulled them both down onto the bed, their limbs tangling together.

Miranda happily curled up in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ll call Stevie first thing tomorrow and tell her the news. And I guess I should call mum, too.” She closed her eyes at the thought of having that particular conversation. “Oh no, if I tell her she’ll be on the first flight out here and wedding planning will commence immediately.”

“Stevie already knows, actually,” Gary mumbled into her hair. “She helped me pick out the ring.” He kissed her head lightly. “I might have snuck out to call and have her bring it.”

Her eyes widened in excitement when he told her Stevie was on her way. “She’s coming here? Oh, that’s brilliant! I can’t believe she managed to keep it a secret for so long,” Miranda added with a short laugh. “She’s usually quite rubbish at it. Well, that takes care of telling the best friend… but I still need to break the news to mum.” She was dreading the conversation because Penny would without a doubt try and take complete control over everything, whether Miranda liked it or not.

“Honestly she only had to keep it a secret for a few days,” he said, “I couldn’t wait very long to ask you.” He breathed in deeply, inhaling her citrusy scent. “And do you really need to tell your mum right away? We could at least enjoy the rest of our trip first. Tell her when we get back.” His fingers skidded over the fabric of her dress as he spoke.

She nuzzled gently against his shoulder, slipping her arm around his waist. “Right now I wish we didn’t have to go back at all,” she admitted. “The longer we stay here, the longer I can avoid her.”

“You could just not tell her until after we get married,” he teased. “I’m sure she’d love that.”

Miranda giggled into his shoulder. “Somehow I think she’d figure it out fairly quickly. I have a terrible poker face and she’d know something was up the moment she saw me.” She shifted against him so she could take his hand, her thumb rubbing the back of it absently as she spoke. “I wish we could just skip all of the craziness that’s certain to follow.”

“We could just elope,” he said, half-joking, “She can’t bother you about a wedding that’s already happened.”  

She snorted derisively in reponse, already imagining the chaos that would bring. But then she did a double-take when she realised it was, in fact, actually perfect. “Hang on, wait. If we actually could, that would solve everything, wouldn’t it? No mum to boss everyone around about everything, Stevie would be here for it, we can do whatever we like… and in the end, we still get married.” She looked over at him, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to take to the idea, but it  _did_ make perfect sense. He didn’t care about having a big, flashy wedding, he had never even expected he’d get married in the first place. All that mattered to him was being with Miranda for the rest of his life.

“It sounds perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

"I can’t take all the credit for the idea," she replied once they broke apart, smiling at him. "When Stevie gets here tomorrow we can sort everything out." She was excited to think that this time tomorrow they might actually be married. The thought made her want to shout it from the rooftops but she didn’t want to get arrested in another country.

She was about to kiss him again when there was a knock on the door and for a moment she stared at it confusion before she remembered. “Oh, cake!” she said gleefully.

She sounded as excited about the cake as she was about marrying him, but Gary wasn’t exactly surprised. He kissed her once more, quickly, before going to answer the door.

After the server had left, he handed Miranda their glasses of champagne, and turned to grab the cake. “Oh, they only gave us one fork,” he noticed, frowning.

She took a sip of champagne before plucking the fork from his hands. “Oh, that’s really a terrible shame, they didn’t give you a fork. So rude of them!” She gave him an innocent smile before taking a large bite of the cake.

“Oi, if we’re going to share a life, that includes utensils,” he said, trying to grab the fork from her.

She stuck her tongue out at him as she handed him the fork. “I guess I can learn to share,” she relented, scooping some chocolate frosting from the cake with her finger.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head slightly. He grinned at her as he took a bite of the cake, then handed the fork back to her. “So Stevie will be surprised to find out she’s turning up for a wedding, yeah?”

Miranda grinned, imagining how surprised her little friend would be when she heard the news. “She’ll be absolutely gobsmacked, I think. But I’d feel terrible if she missed it, so I’m happy she’ll be there.” She bumped her shoulder playfully against his as she ate another bite of cake.

“We’ve got a built-in honeymoon, too,” he said, leaning against her shoulder. “Unless you wanted to go somewhere else for that.” He tried to get the fork back from Miranda, but she had an iron grip on it.

"Well, there’s the Eiffel Tower of course! And they do have Disneyland Paris, too." She playfully kept the fork away from him for a bit longer before taking pity on him and offering him a bite of cake.

He took the bite from the fork, giving her an incredulous look as he did. “That sounds good,” he said, smiling at his soon-to-be wife. They finished off the cake, with Miranda keeping control of the fork, occasionally allowing him to have a bite. He laid back on the bed, setting the empty plate on the night stand.

Slightly tipsy from the champagne, Miranda finally relinquished the fork and dropped it onto the empty plate. “We have a pretty big day ahead of us tomorrow, then,” she said as she unzipped her dress to get ready for bed.

His hands slid over her back as soon as she started undressing, smoothing over her skin.  He sighed happily, pulling the dress down over her shoulders, his fingers skidding along her arms.

She smiled softly to herself as he helped her out of her dress; she left it on the end of the bed before crawling under the duvet and snuggling into her pillow.

He shed his own clothes and curled up next to her, kissing the back of her neck lightly as he closed his eyes.


	21. paris (part II)

The following morning they headed to the aeroport to meet Stevie. When Miranda saw her tiny best friend racing through the terminal she ran towards her and hugged her tightly. 

Amidst the excitement Miranda gave Stevie a playful punch on the arm. “I can’t believe you were in on this!” she whined.

"Well, seeing as I am an expert in the art that is romance, who else was Gary going to ask?" Stevie answered, giving Miranda another hug before pulling away and reaching into her purse. "Right, returning this to you, then," she said as she turned to Gary and handed him something.

He took the box from Stevie, thanking her, then turned to Miranda.  ”Right, well,” he said under his breath, dropping to one knee and popping open the box. The ring he had finally chosen was the first one he and Stevie had actually agreed on, a small round diamond with tiny ones embedded into the silver band on either side.  He looked up at her, grinning.  ”Will you marry me?”

Perhaps it was the curious people milling around who were trying not to stare, or Stevie bouncing on her heels excitedly, or the fact that it was his second proposal in 24 hours. She hadn’t actually expected him to go through it again since he’d already asked and she’d already said yes. Starting to giggle at the ridiculous grin on his face, she grinned back at him. “We’re already engaged, you nut! I already said yes!” 

"I wanted to do it properly," he said, a bit sheepishly.  Taking her hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger, his hands shaking.  He could feel his eyes begin to prick with tears and he blinked to try to hold them back. 

She could feel his hands trembling and she continued to beam at him before she grabbed his hand and pulled him up towards her; flinging her arms around his neck she kissed him happily, overwhelmed with emotion. His initial proposal, the real one, had been absolutely perfect, but this was the icing on the cake. 

His arms settled around her waist as she kissed him and he leaned into her.  ”I guess we should tell her the news,” he said after they pulled apart, his eyes still locked on her.

"What news?  I am right here, you know," Stevie piped in.

"I guess we probably should," Miranda joked. "I mean, since she came all this way."

"Off in your own little world and ignoring me, are we?" Stevie interrupted once more, and Miranda just grinned at her, enjoying keeping her in suspense.

"Okay, well, the thing is… we’re getting married here. Today. Partly to avoid mum’s reaction when I come home with a ring on my finger, but mostly just because, well, we can’t wait.’

Gary winced as Stevie shrieked and started pulling them apart so she could hug Miranda.  Then she turned to hit Gary on the arm.  ”Is that the real reason you had me come all the way out here?”

"No, I really am just an idiot," he said, still grinning.  "It all worked out, though."

"Yes, but you’re my idiot," Miranda teased him, then turned to Stevie. "Please say you’ll stay and be there for it. Please?"

Stevie grinned and hugged her once more. “Of course I will! It’s not every day my best friend gets married. Actually, I’m still surprised you’re getting married first. I mean I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

Miranda shot Stevie a look. “Saying ‘I don’t mean to be rude’ doesn’t make it not rude. And hello, it’s my wedding day, so can you maybe say something nice for once?”

Stevie looked contrite. “I really am thrilled for you both. Took you long enough, though!”

Gary nodded, gravitating back towards Miranda and placing his hand at the small of her back.

"Right, well, we have a lot to do!" Stevie said, switching into planning mode.  She grabbed Miranda’s hand and started pulling her along towards the exit.  "We’ll need to get you a dress, and flowers, and…"  she continued rattling off a list while Gary trailed along behind them.

Miranda looked helplessly back at Gary as Stevie dragged her out the doors with the air of someone who at least knew what they were doing. She pulled her phone from her purse and started looking up shops and times. “Right, we’ll get you all sorted out. Just because it’s at the town hall doesn’t mean we can’t make this,” she gestured at Miranda’s face, “look like a million pounds. Well, half a million in your case.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. She was about to go back to Gary’s side when Stevie pulled her back.

"And you can’t see her until then, so we’ll meet you at the town hall in two hours!"

"Two hours? Are you literally insane? That’s in… two hours!"

"Difficult, but not impossible. Come on, quick sticks!" Stevie chirped, grabbing Miranda’s wrist.

Gary paced outside of the town hall as he waited for Miranda and Stevie to arrive.  He played nervously with their wedding bands in his pocket; he had killed time by picking up a pair of simple silver bands.  He rocked forward on his toes, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular.

Stevie definitely could make a career out of wedding planning on a short notice, Miranda had decided after 90 minutes of being dragged all over town and trying on half a dozen dresses before deciding on a blue one that Stevie had given her approval on. Then it was back to the hotel where her blonde friend had made a valiant effort to tame her hair which was now a disaster from the aforementioned being dragged around town bit. 

Still, when Stevie saw her in front of the mirror she couldn’t even think of anything mean to say, and after hailing a cab and leaving the French to her, they headed for the town hall.

Gary froze when he saw Stevie bounding out of the cab that had just pulled up.  Miranda stepped out after her, and he felt breathless the moment he saw her.  ”You look lovely,” he said quietly as she walked towards him.

She took his hand excitedly and smiled at him. “You too,” she said softly, taking it all in. She kissed him on the cheek.

Stevie was already pushing them towards the entrance. “Oh, by the way, everything’s done in French here, but I can translate for you!”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Stevie, you took three lessons. Do you really think you’re qualified?”

"Je suis très… qualified, merci." Stevie said sternly as she pushed them through the door.  Gary squeezed Miranda’s hand gently, his heart fluttering as they walked down the corridor.

There was a brief wait before it was their turn and from that point it passed in a bit of an excited blur. Stevie’s French made her dissolve into giggles at one point, and she nearly dropped the wedding band as she went to slide it onto Gary’s finger. It wasn’t until she was signing her name next to his that the full weight of what they’d just done hit her, and she felt herself becoming teary (not helped by Stevie’s loud sniffling off to the side).

They looked up after signing the papers to see Stevie and the officiant gesturing wildly at them.  Gary glanced over at Miranda, who looked just as confused as he was.  ”Kiss!” Stevie finally shouted at them, and they both laughed before Gary pulled her towards him, his hand at her neck.

Miranda kissed him happily, her hands still shaking with excitement and adrenaline as she wrapped her arms around him. When she pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, she felt like she might float away. Everything they’d been through from the day they met had been leading up to this moment, and neither of them had realised it. She rested her forehead against his and grinned.

"Hello,  _husband_ ,” she teased him gently, the word sounding so lovely.

"Hello, wife," he replied, beaming at her.  He was absolutely giddy with happiness, and he wrapped his arms around her so tightly that he lifted her up off the floor.  

She laughed as he swept her off her feet, hugging him tightly and shaking her head fondly. As soon as he set her down Stevie was rushing over to hug them, and after a bit more French they were on their way out into the city once more. 

"Right, I think we won this round — the rules say you’re just supposed to get engaged in Paris, but we upped the ante and got married," Miranda said, wiggling her fingers to show off her rings.

Gary looked down at his own ring, a content smile on his face.  He laced his fingers with Miranda’s as they strolled down the street, barely watching where they were going because they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.  

He had completely forgotten Stevie was with them until he heard gagging sounds coming from a few feet behind them.

Miranda stopped walking and turned to glare at Stevie, still holding Gary’s hand.

"Rude."

Stevie stuck her tongue out at them. “You two! I’m not sure whether I’m disgusted or envious right now.”

Miranda laughed. “Feeling like a third wheel, are we?”

"Practically shagging Gary in the middle of the street, are we?"

"We’re holding hands!" Miranda said defensively, and gave Stevie a gentle push. "Look, we’ll catch up with you later?"

Stevie looked skeptical but she smiled. “Somehow I doubt that. If anyone needs me, I’ll be romancing a bottle of wine.” She gave Miranda one last quick hug before hurrying off.

"Have you all to myself again," he said affectionately, kissing her on the cheek.  Suddenly struck with an idea, he tugged on her hand.  "Come on," he said, "I want to show you something."

"Really, you want to do that now?" she joked, giggling as she squeezed his hand and followed him.

"Not that," he said, shaking his head fondly.  He guided them through the city, back towards the bridge they had passed the night before.  He gestured towards the locks that lined the side of the bridge.  "I remember hearing about this once, couples write their names on a padlock and attach it to the bridge." He looked over at Miranda eagerly.  "Pretty romantic, right?"

She’d vaguely remembered the locks on the bridge, and now that it was daylight she could actually clearly see. “We’ve been married for a quarter of an hour and you’ve already turned into a hopeless romantic,” she teased him gently, leaning her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist. “But it’s actually quite sweet.”

"Good," he said quietly, kissing the top of her head.  He untangled himself from her arms to go buy a lock from one of the vendors milling about.  He returned to Miranda with a lock and a marker, and handed them to her.  "Care to do the honors?"

She thought for a moment before writing their names and the date on the lock with the marker, grinning as she did. She hadn’t stopped smiling all day and she wasn’t sure she ever would at this point. She capped the marker before trying to find a clear space to put their lock.

He placed his hand on her back as she scanned the bridge.  When they finally found a spot, they locked it together, their fingers brushing against each other.  After it was secure, he grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss.  Ever since the first time their lips touched, he had never wanted to stop kissing her, but now he felt it even more strongly.

She gasped softly in surprise when he pulled her close but then instantly relaxed when his lips brushed against hers. She draped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him eagerly, joyfully, full of love and excitement. It had taken them so long to get things sorted but she finally truly believed this was happening.

They eventually met back up with Stevie for dinner and far too much champagne.  It  _was_ a celebration, after all.  After bidding her goodnight, they stumbled back towards the hotel under the glow of the street lamps.

Miranda giggled uncontrollably as she tried to unlock the door to their hotel room; the harder she tried to make the key fit the harder she laughed. Finally she managed to get it unlocked and opened it with a triumphant flourish, looking rather smug. “Shame you didn’t have to be all alpha-male and break down the door,” she added as an afterthought.

"And then we’d have to pay for a busted door," he teased.  He gestured for her to come closer.  "Come on, I’ve got to carry you over the threshold."

"Good, because these shoes are a safety hazard," she pouted a bit as she gingerly moved closer to him and tried not to trip.

He scooped her up and began to carry her through the doorway.  He miscalculated their entrance, however, and Miranda’s feet got caught in the door.  As he tried to turn, his ankle twisted and they both went crashing spectacularly to the ground.

She let out a shriek of surprise as they tumbled down and once she’d confirmed that all of her limbs were intact, she burst into laughter and buried her face into his neck to try and stifle it. “Still alive?” she asked between giggly gasps for air.

"Think so," he said, laughing loudly.  He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath.  "I guess I need to be sober for that."

Miranda waited until her giggling had subsided before replying, “Might be a good idea if we want to make it to our first anniversary.” She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked down at him, her grin cheeky and her eyes sparkling with love and mischief. “I don’t think you need to be sober for this, though.” Cupping his cheek in her hand, she leaned down and kissed him.

He sighed quietly into her kiss, lifting his head up slightly to meet her.  He started laughing mid-kiss, overcome with such ridiculous happiness that he couldn’t keep it in.

Their noses collided when he started to laugh and she scrunched hers up playfully at him before kissing him the forehead, letting her lips brush over his skin for a moment before she kissed his cheek and then along his jaw.

He brushed her arm lightly with his fingers as her lips skidded over his cheek.  His eyes fluttered closed as he concentrated on the feeling of her warm breath on his skin.

She laughed quietly as her lips softly kissed over his neck; she breathed in the scent of him, of his cologne and everything else that made her feel so warm and safe in his arms. Her fingers swept over his shoulders as her legs straddled his hips and she breathed his name into his skin.

He instinctively bucked his hips up to meet her.  His hands travelled over her back while his nails scraped against the fabric of her dress.  He let them glide slowly over her; there was no rush now.

His hands on her bare skin sent shivers racing up her spine and she pressed herself gently against him, her fingertips continuing their lazy path over his chest. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the crisp cotton of his dress shirt and her fingers toyed slowly with the tiny buttons; she was too tipsy to try unbuttoning them so instead she just pulled his shirttails from his trousers and slid her hands under his shirt.

He arched his back at the touch of her hands on his chest.  He mumbled under his breath about how breathtakingly gorgeous she was, but the words blurred together and were lost.  He fumbled with the zipper of her dress, eager to slip it off of her.

Grinning cheekily, she slipped off her dress and shivered slightly as the cool air hit her skin. She dove back into his arms, kissing him passionately and sliding her hands over his chest down to his belt, fingers deftly unfastening it.

He reached down to help her pull off his trousers, kicking them off and out the still-open door and into the hallway.  He was only half aware that the hallway had a full view of their situation, but with her lips on his skin, he really didn’t care.

Miranda was kissing him with such enthusiasm and fervor that she didn’t even realise the door was open until her foot kicked and smashed into the doorjam and she scrambled off of him to close it. She leaned back against the closed door and burst into hysterical laughter before crawling back over to him and making another attempt to unbutton his shirt.

He unfastened the clasp of her bra as she worked on his shirt.  Once it was discarded, he cupped his hands over her breasts, letting out a quiet sigh as he melted against her soft skin.

She pushed his shirt off of his shoulders revealing his naked skin under her hands. With that layer of clothing removed and only their pants separating them she crushed her lips to his and kissed him urgently, his touch thrilling and arousing her.

He groaned, pulling her closer to him.  His hands grasped at every part of her he could reach, all the places he now knew so well.

She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, grinding against him impatiently before removing the last bits of clothing they still wore and reveling in the feel of his naked skin against her own. He whispered her name into her lips, slipping his hand in between them and curling his fingers into her.  Her breath was warm against his face and his other hand slid into the curve of her hip.

His name slipped past her lips as a desperate whisper; she kissed him until she couldn’t suppress her gasps and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hips slowly rocking against his hand. He slipped a finger inside of her as she gasped against his neck.  He pumped into her, biting his lip as she bucked against him.

She audibly moaned his name against his skin, clutching at his shoulders and sinking her nails into his skin. Arousal and adrenaline coursed through her body causing her to tremble against him as she felt his fingers sliding into her. Gary slid his free hand up to the back of Miranda’s neck, holding her against him as he pressed into her in a slow rhythm. She felt the tension coiling within her, the heat burning under his fingertips as they pushed her closer to the edge. Her fingernails scraped at his shoulders before she grabbed onto them and shuddered against him, crying out his name loudly and desperately as she came apart above him.

He dug his toes into the carpet as she rocked against him.  Slipping his hand away, he brushed it lightly over her thigh before bracing himself on her hips and pressing into her, gasping as he did.

Her toes curled in bliss and ecstasy and she grinned down at him before leaning in and kissing him deeply, her hand cupping his cheek. As she slowly began to roll her hips over him and softly kiss over his face, she remembered the last time they’d wound up on the floor and how she’d asked him then if she could keep him forever. Now she had her answer.

He whispered her name as her lips brushed over his face.  She was his wife.  His  _wife._   His back arched as she moved with him, their bodies finding the rhythm they knew so well. Her kisses strayed down to his neck, her movements languid and unhurried. They had all the time in the world now, their entire lifetimes to be together and do everything they wanted to do. That list she’d joked about with him weeks ago didn’t seem so impossible now. Not if they were together. She moaned his name quietly against the curve of his shoulder and pressed closer to him.

They moved slowly together, almost achingly so.  He wrapped his arms around her neck, cupping the back of her head with his hand as she breathed against his shoulder. The fire that had been burning so steadily inside of her threatened to overwhelm her but she tried to control it, to make this last as long as she possibly could. Her body trembled in his arms as she moved effortlessly with him, slowly and purposefully. She tucked her head into his neck and cried out his name softly.

His fingers dug into her back as he pressed her closer against him.  He needed to have her closer, closer, always closer, like he was making up for the times he pushed her away.  He groaned, the feel of her soft skin sliding against his overwhelming him, pushing him slowly to the edge.

She felt like she was melting into him, the heat of their bodies and the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on her skin. She couldn’t get close enough, tightening her thighs around his hips as she felt herself begin to unravel. She lifted her head from his neck and kissed him desperately, her limbs trembling as she started to come apart.

He felt her starting to quake against him and he held on tightly as she did.  After a few moments he was following her over, clinging to her as if they would be torn apart otherwise.  He dropped his head back to the floor with a thud as it was over, a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Her lips lightly brushed over the corner of his mouth before she sighed wearily in satisfaction and dropped her head down onto his chest, his heartbeat under her cheek. Her fingers absently caressed over his damp skin, her own flesh warm with the afterglow.

His back stung from the rough hotel carpet, but it barely registered as he smiled down at her.  Her head bobbed up and down with his breathing.  He curled his arms around her gently as she nuzzled against his chest.

When her breathing had finally evened out to a normal rhythm, she slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him from under her lashes, a content grin on her face. She carefully rolled off to his side, stretching out next to him before cuddling close once more. She took his hand in her own, her fingers lightly brushing over the wedding band on his finger. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently as he looked over at her.  

The touch of his lips on her hand made her toes curl with happiness; she leaned her forehead against his and smiled before gently stroking his cheek with her fingertips and sighing softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before,” she admitted, her voice a whisper, not wanting to disturb the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Me either," he whispered back.  He hadn’t even realized he could  _be_  this happy.  There had been a half dozen times in his life where he thought,  _this is it, this is the best it can get_ , but this day was leaving them all in the dust.

She grinned cheerfully at him, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before gingerly sitting up and surveying the mess they’d made with their discarded clothes. Frowning slightly, she turned back to him. “Where did your trousers go?”

He squinted, trying to recall.  ”I think they might be in the hall,” he replied, tilting his head.

Miranda looked from where they were laying to the door and then back to Gary before bursting into giggles. “Someone is going to be very confused when they find them,” she managed to say, still laughing.

He caught her giggling, leaning against her shoulder as his chest heaved with laughter.  ”Hopefully they’re still there,” he said between his laughter.

She grabbed his dress shirt from where it lay on the ground and pulled it on, slipping her arms through the sleeves before curling up next to him. “So…” she began, kissing him on the cheek, “we’re in Paris, the capital of romance…” She kissed him on the opposite cheek with a smile. “And I’m not in any rush to get home…” She giggled excitedly and bumped her nose playfully against his. “On an entirely unrelated note, Disneyland is less than an hour away„,”

He laughed, fingering at the collar of his shirt.  ”I can take a hint,” he said, “Sounds lovely.  Though I may be out of clothing at this rate,” he teased.  ”It looks better on you though.”

She laughed softly and pressed her lips to his for a moment. “Oh, I do love you,” she sighed happily, settling her head on his shoulder and nestling into the crook of his neck.

"I love you, too," he said quietly, the exhaustion from the day finally settling onto him.  He leaned on her, his eyes starting to flutter closed despite his efforts to keep them open.

Miranda felt him falling asleep and gently nudged him awake. “Oi, get your butt into bed. I’m not sleeping on the floor on our wedding night.” She yawned and slowly rose to her feet.

He nodded sleepily, standing up next to her and running his hand over the small of her back as he headed towards the bed.  He flopped down on top of the covers heavily, grabbing Miranda’s hand and pulling her down with him. She landed next to him with a quiet giggle, immediately reaching for him and wrapping her arms around him. She was exhausted but ridiculously happy. With the last of her strength she pulled the duvet up to cover them before snuggling into his side and letting her eyes finally close. He smiled serenely as she curled around him, her warm body pressed against hers.  Kissing the top of her head lightly, he drifted off alongside her.


	22. paris (part III)

When she opened her eyes the next morning, it was still early going by the clock on the nightstand. She nestled a bit closer into Gary’s chest and made a sleepy noise as she did. Through the fog of sleep she had the suspicion that she was forgetting something important, that there was a reason she’d woken up so early.

Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed, a grin on her face as she turned and shook his shoulder to wake him.

Gary groaned, making half-hearted attempts to bat away Miranda’s hand.  ”We’re on holiday,” he mumbled, wondering why she couldn’t let him have a lie-in.

She merely giggled in response, bouncing slightly in excitement for a moment. “Technically you’re correct. And last night you agreed to Disneyland — although you were half asleep at the time, I still think it counts as a promise.” Flopping back down onto the bed next to him, she widened her eyes innocently, grinning.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, rolling over to face her.  ”Right, I did say that, didn’t I?” he draped his arm over her stomach, noticing that she was still wearing his shirt.  ”Did we have to get up so  _early_ ,” he said under his breath, more of a statement than a question.

She made a halfhearted attempt to look contrite, blushing slightly. “Sorry. Guess I’m just a bit excited is all.” She tried to stop fidgeting and instead kissed him good morning.

He sighed quietly as she kissed him, his fingers brushing over her cheek.  ”I guess I can forgive you,” he teased before leaning in to kiss her once more. Miranda ran her fingers lazily through his unruly hair before sliding her hand to the back of his neck and holding him close to her. When they parted she was grinning, still in slight disbelief that she’d woken up in bed with him in Paris with a wedding band on her finger.

Gary slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt, tracing over her collarbone.  ”It’s far too early to leave,” he said in a low voice.  Licking his lips, he smiled suggestively at her.  ”What should we do to pass the time?”

She lifted an eyebrow in reply before grinning impishly at him. “Boggle?” she suggested, trying to hold back her laughter.

He burst into laughter, leaning his forehead against hers.  ”I guess you could call it that.”

She bit her lip to quiet her giggling. “Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked, her fingertips lightly grazing over the back of his neck.

"If you have to ask, I must not be good at it," he teased, his lips hovering just in front of hers, her breath warm on his face.

"On the contrary. You’re very good at it," she murmured, her eyes flicking down to his lips. He murmured softly, sliding his hand over her breast and leaning in to kiss her deeply.  

Miranda sighed happily as she lay back on the pillows, sliding her arm around his waist and pulling him down on top of her. She never stopped kissing him, she didn’t think she ever could.

He straddled over her, gently pushing the shirt off her shoulders.  Tearing himself away from her lips, he locked eyes with her briefly before moving to the skin he just uncovered, his teeth scraping lightly over her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered closed; her fingers burying into the hair at the back of his neck as she held him against her. As she quietly breathed his name she decided this was a much better idea than Boggle.

He peppered her neck with kisses, his hands sliding down her sides and settling in the curve of her waist.  The morning fog finally cleared from his mind and he smiled against her skin, almost giddy at the events of the last few days.

Even with her eyes closed she could tell he was smiling and her heart beat a little faster because she knew the reason why he was so happy and she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she was the reason. But it was true, it was real, and so was this, the way his lips brushed over her neck and the way she softly gasped his name as he did.

He couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he kissed her; the ridiculous joy that filled him demanded to be let out.  He kissed her throat, her collarbone, her breasts; he wanted to kiss every part of her all over again.

Time seemed to slow, for once on their side given how much time they’d lost in the past. There was only the here and the now, and she never wanted these moments to end. His giggle made her laugh, her head thrown back in amusement and then delight as he kissed over her body.

He kept kissing her, moving over her stomach and hips, his hands lightly grazing across her skin.  Finding himself at her thighs, he grinned mischievously as he gently parted her legs, flicking his eyes up at her. 

Her fingers slid out of his hair as he moved lower; she immediately knew what he wanted to do and she inhaled sharply when he kissed over her stomach and her suspicious were confirmed. With a giggle of anticipation she opened her eyes and saw his cheeky grin and his eyes locked on hers, and she felt a shiver of arousal shoot up along her spine.

He kissed lightly along her inner thigh before settling between her legs.  His touches were affectionate as well as sensual, and he brushed his fingers over her before leaning in.  He closed his eyes as his tongue flicked over her.  Her fingers clutched at the bedsheets underneath her, her laughter fading into a moan as she felt his breath and his tongue against her center. She let her head rock back against the pillows, a soft moan escaping from her lips.

Her moan urged him on and he became more deliberate in his movements.  He painted her in broad, quick strokes, gripping at her leg for leverage.  His free hand moved between them, his fingers slipping into her easily. She swore under her breath, her hips bucking up against his hand and her fingers twisting into the sheets more tightly. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to please her, that it never took him long to drive her absolutely mad with desire. Her hands shook as she let go of the duvet and grabbed his hair, begging him silently at first and then starting to moan his name with more insistence.

He sighed against her, his own desire growing with the sound of her voice.  Tearing himself away, he nipped at her thigh before propping himself up and sliding into her, closing his eyes as he did. Her arms and legs wound around him as he pushed into her. Her lips feathered over his cheek and down to his shoulder, burying her face into his warm skin.

He leaned down to kiss her on the lips, but missed and caught the corner of her mouth.  He bit his lip to keep from laughing as he thrusted into her, kissing over her cheek instead. She turned her head to press her cheek against his, her breathing soft but ragged as they moved together. Her arms curled around his back and shoulders, holding him close to her. His movements became more erratic as he neared his release.  He buried his head into her neck, his breathing heavy and his fingertips digging into the sheets as he rocked against her.

Gasping his name, her nails dug into his back and pulled him closer to her with each of his thrusts. She slipped over the edge with a cry muffled against his shoulder and gripped him tightly, urging him onward, wanting him there with her. He followed her over, squinting his eyes shut tight as he found his release.  Relaxing, he rested his head on her chest, her heart beating fast against his cheek.

Gently brushing her lips over the top of his head, she draped her arms loosely over his shoulders and sighed contently. It had been almost a year of this and she never tired of it, never ceased to be awestruck by it. Hugging him just a bit closer to her chest, she smiled into his hair. “Good morning, husband,” she said, grinning.

"Morning, wife," he replied, slipping his arms underneath her and hugging her tightly.  

Her cheeks ached from smiling; she hadn’t been able to do anything else since they arrived in Paris. “Have you forgiven me for waking you up early on hols?” she asked, grinning sheepishly.

"I guess so," he said with a laugh, picking his head up and kissing her lightly on the lips.

"Good," Miranda teased. "So, plans for the day? I’m thinking we get breakfast and then off to the happiest place on earth. I want to go on _all_  the roller coasters.”

“ _All_  of them?” Gary asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  His older siblings had dragged him on a roller coaster as a child and he had been avoiding them ever since.  He rolled off of her, landing heavily next to her before sitting up.

"Well, there’s a few of them! Indiana Jones, Space Mountain…" She grinned excitedly at him before reaching over him for the room service menu to decide what to have for breakfast.

"Sounds good," he said, swallowing nervously.  He leaned over her shoulder to look at the menu, kissing her on the cheek as he did.

She ran her finger down the list of breakfast options. “French toast — since we’re in France, wouldn’t they just call it toast? — sausage, bacon, eggs, muffins, fruit…” She turned her head to glance back at him, grinning. “I doubt it’ll match up to your breakfasts back home, but these are desperate times. And by desperate, I mean hungry.”

He picked up the phone to make the order, with Miranda gesturing wildly at the menu as he listed off their breakfast.  After he hung up, he leaned over to kiss her, curling his hand around her neck.  ”As much as I hate to suggest it, we should probably get dressed before they turn up.”  He flicked his eyes down her body, taking in the view.

Miranda smirked suggestively as she caught him admiring her naked sweep. “You’re probably right,” she sighed, reluctantly slipping out of his arms and climbing out of bed to find some clothes from her suitcase.

After a long, lazy breakfast that included a bit of friendly fighting over the last piece of bacon, they headed out to the train station.  As they settled into their seats, Gary curled his arm around Miranda’s shoulder, resting his head on top of hers.  His eyes began to flutter closed, despite the cup of coffee he’d had with breakfast.

Miranda felt him falling asleep and smiled fondly. She scooted closer to him and lightly kissed his cheek. She was too excited to sleep, so instead she looked out the window and gently grasped his hand, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles while he slept.

As the train came to a stop, Gary bolted awake.  ”I’m up,” he said groggily, smiling sheepishly at Miranda.  He stood up, stretching slightly, and held his arm out to her.  ”Shall we?”

She linked her arm through his with a grin, already bouncing slightly in place as they waited to get off the train. Once they were in the station and making their way to the exit, she was so excited she was clutching his arm so tightly her fingers dug into him.

Gary stroked the back of the hand that was latched onto him, grinning as they stepped out of the station.  As the park entrance came into view, he looked over at Miranda, watching for the joy he knew would spread across her face.

Her eyes widened in delight as she took it all in; there was a reason ‘going to Disneyland’ would have been her dying wish had she actually been dying earlier in the year. Clutching at Gary’s hand, she practically dragged him to go get their tickets.

"My inner child is going positively mental right now. Well, so’s my outer child," she giggled.

Once they got their tickets and were through the turnstiles, he turned to Miranda.  ”Where to first? Teacups?  Carousel?” he asked, suggesting the rides he could think of that stuck close to the ground.

Miranda grabbed his hand and consulted her park map before heading towards Adventureland. “We can do those later if we have time, come on! Indiana Jones will have a longer queue, and I really want to try that one. Oh, and Pirates of the Caribbean is there too!” 

He furrowed his brow as he followed her through the park.  ”Right, which one is Indiana Jones again?”  His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily.

They walked through the entrance and she was overwhelmed by the sounds and the music and the crowds. Which were unavoidable, but she held his hand tightly nonetheless as she ran over to one of the shops to admire the souvenirs. “Oh, it’s a coaster that’s like that Temple of Doom movie. You know, where the giant boulder comes rolling down? Loved that film,” she said happily.

Swallowing nervously, he said, “I guess this is a good time to mention… I’m not really a fan of heights.” 

Miranda wasn’t surprised in the least to hear that; she shook her head affectionately and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll hold your hand, I promise.”

"Thanks," he mumbled.  Wincing, he looked over at her.  "Can we just get it over with quickly?  Please?" he asked, almost pleading.

"I don’t think it’s so much height in this one! I think it’s just kind of bumpy and twisty," she attempted to reassure him. They were moving slowly through the queue, which was underground and ridiculously long. She squeezed his hand in excitement. Due to her height she could see well over the crowd’s heads where the actual ride started, and as minutes passed her excitement only grew. 

He started to point out that it wasn’t  _just_  the height, but the general roller coaster experience that he was afraid of, but he stopped himself before saying anything.  He would just man up for it, he decided, putting on a brave smile and nodding to himself.  His hand was still clasped with Miranda’s, and he rubbed her thumb with his as they moved forward through the line.

When it was finally their turn to be directed into one of the cars, she pulled him by the hand and practically dragged him along with her, exclaiming over every little detail as they buckled into their row of the car. She looked over him and grinned happily. “I’m so glad we decided to do this.”

He nodded silently, grabbing her hand again once they were buckled in, his grip tighter this time.  As the car pulled forward and started to climb the hill, he looped both his arms around hers, clinging on for his life.  ”I thought you said it wasn’t high,” he mumbled, squinting his eyes shut tight.

Miranda giggled nervously as she held onto his hand. “Um, well, I guess I thought the French version was the same as the one on America? But I don’t remember that one having shoulder restraints…” The reason quickly became clear. She clutched his hand in hers and screamed in exhilaration as they went down the first hill, her hair whipping in her face.

The wind blew roughly against his face as they flew along the tracks.  He dug his nails into Miranda’s hand, trying not to notice his stomach doing flip-flops.  He thought for a moment that opening his eyes might help; at least then he’d know what was coming.  But the moment he opened them, he saw a full loop coming up, and he closed his eyes tight again, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Miranda heard him screaming beside her and she tried to look over to make sure he was okay, but then suddenly they were upside down fir a few seconds. She pushed her hair out of her eyes with her free hand, her other hand being squeezed so tightly she was worried it was broken. 

The car finally pulled back into the station, and Gary could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest.  He only released his grip on Miranda’s hand when the safety bars released and he scrambled quickly back onto the platform.

As soon as they were back on solid ground she took him by the arm and steered him towards the exit. “I’m so, so, so sorry!” she apologised sheepishly. “I didn’t think it was like that at all… and by that I mean clearly more fun than the one on America, but I honestly didn’t intend to traumatise you on our second day of marriage. That comes much later,” she joked, kissing him on the cheek as they walked.

"Can’t wait," he teased back, though it was true.  Any future hardship was worth it, as long as he had her.  He smiled at her, a bit embarrassed.  "Can we go on something a bit calmer next?"

She hugged his arm, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. “Okay. I can do calm. I’m completely calm.” She rummaged through her bag for her map of the park, and as she did she noticed several strange marks on the back of her hand. Closer examination revealed Gary had been holding her hand so tightly he’d actually left clawmarks. She quickly hid her hand under the map, not wanting him to panic that he’d inadvertently maimed her, and studied it closely. “Ooo, fancy mansion down the road. Calm enough for you?”

He rolled his eyes at her affectionately.  ”I think I can handle that,” he said, bumping her with his shoulder.  As they filed into the queue, Gary slid his hand gently over her back, letting her go in front of him.

The queue moved rather slowly, and she entertained herself by taking photos with her mobile. As they drew nearer towards the mansion, she was too happily oblivious to notice their surroundings and how derelict and creepy the garden was. She was so engrossed in her mobile that she didn’t notice the flickering lights and shadows in the windows as they walked through the queue and up to the porch of the mansion to wait their turn.

Gary’s brow furrowed as they stepped inside the house.  He had noticed how run-down the outside looked, and as they walked into the foyer, he saw the cobwebs and creepy decorations.  ”Is this a  _haunted_ house?” he asked, leaning over towards Miranda.  Someone standing nearby overheard him and gave him a puzzled look, nodding at him.  ”I mean, it’s fine, if it is,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.  ”Totally fine.”  At that moment, the room jolted and began to move, and he instinctively grabbed on to Miranda’s arm.

"I don’t know! Everything’s in French!" she hissed in reply, shifting closer to him as the room began to stretch. She couldn’t understand a word being spoken by the booming voice narrating the scene, but then suddenly lightning flashed and the shadow of a body hanging from the ceiling could be seen. "Okay, right, definitely haunted," she said weakly, gripping his hand.

The wall opened in front of them, and they reluctantly shuffled out into the hallway.  Gary grimaced as they headed towards the loading platform, his grip on Miranda’s hand tightening.  ”It won’t be too bad,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Right, no, I mean we watch horror films all the time, this isn’t any different," she babbled as they climbed into their car. Once they were settled she reached for his hand again.

He nodded, taking her hand in both of his.  He scooted close to her as the ride started.  He squeezed her hand in his as they drifted slowly past the creepy scenery.  A chill ran up his spine and he buried his head in Miranda’s shoulder.  Just for a moment, he told himself.

It was spooky and eerie, but oddly fascinating. She felt Gary cowering against her and wrapped her arm around him, her eyes flicking over every shadow and dark corner. They passed a corridor of doors and as soon as they heard pounding and knocking like something was trying to escape, she shrieked and held onto him tighter, giggling nervously.

As the ride progressed, Gary tried to peek back up to watch the ride, but he never lasted more than a few seconds.  There was something distinctly different between watching a horror film on the telly, and actually being surrounded by it.  He slipped his arms around Miranda’s waist and hugged her tightly, trying to ignore the skull in the mirror in front of them.

Miranda was beginning to regret her suggestion more and more with every scene they passed; so much for being relaxing. Gary clung to her like a monkey and all she could do was hug him and marvel at the spooky world around them. As they glided through a spooky graveyard and then out into a ghost town, she winced at the sound of gunfire and craned her neck trying to see what was happening.

Gary kissed her shoulder lightly before lifting his head to see what was going on.  As they passed by a saloon and some ghosts playing poker, he started to smile, relaxing a bit.

They rounded the corner and headed back towards the manor; a ghostly projection led the way and the ride was obviously almost over. As they headed through the hallway, Miranda could see their reflections in the mirror, along with a creepy figure behind them. She jumped slightly before realising it was just a hologram.

Gary shrieked when he saw the figure, jumping away from Miranda and batting at the air before he realized it was an illusion.  Before he could settle down, the car shook suddenly, and he grabbed onto Miranda’s arm, his eyes wide as saucers.

Miranda laughed in excitement as they neared the exit, and as the safety bars were released she could feel Gary holding onto her for dear life. They stumbled onto the moving platform together and she held his hand, knowing once they were back in the daylight he’d feel better.

He winced as they stepped out into the bright sunlight and looked down as his eyes adjusted to the light.  ”What happened to your hand?” he asked, alarmed, as he noticed red marks on the back of her hand.

Miranda tried to surreptitiously pull her hand away but it was too late; she really didn’t want to alarm him so she replied jokingly, “Oh, you just got a bit friendly on the coaster. Well, not quite as friendly as you were on that last ride. Really, I knew you had to be genuinely scared because for once you actually  _didn’t_  try and cop a feel in the dark.” She was trying to change the topic so he wouldn’t worry.

He felt so bad about injuring her that he didn’t even register her comment about feeling her up.  ”Miranda!” he exclaimed.  ”I’m so sorry, are you sure you don’t need a bandage?”  He held her hand gently in his as he inspected it.

"I think I’ll live," she teased him gently. "It’s partly my fault for dragging you onto a roller coaster in the first place! Really, it’s fine," she reassured him.

"You’re sure?" he asked, brushing his lips lightly over the back of her hand. 

She felt herself blushing slightly and nodded. “Well, now you’ve gone and kissed it better. I’m absolutely sure.”

He grinned, pulling her towards him and wrapping his free arm around her.  ”Good,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  ”Now is there anything in this park that won’t traumatize me?” he said, his voice muffled against her hair.

Miranda smiled and leaned into his arms, thinking for a moment. Struck with an idea, she pulled away and squeezed his hand. “C’mon,” she said, leading him out of Frontierland and towards the castle in the distance.

He followed her through the park, letting her lead him through the crowds.  When he realized they were heading towards Fantasyland, he said, “Are you taking me on the kids’ rides?  I’m not  _that_ hopeless.”  

She rolled her eyes and swung their hands between them. “Given that we’re probably the only two British people here, it would be a travesty if we didn’t ride the teacups,” she said with a grin.

"You have a point," he said with a laugh.  They slipped into the line and watched as the ride spun in front of them.  Gary bounced on his toes slightly as they waited.

The queue for the teacups moved along quickly and finally they ran over to an empty oversized teacup and climbed in. “So, we’re going to spin this so fast we can’t walk afterward, right?” she asked, giggling.

"That’s the only way to do it!" he replied, grinning at her.  He gripped onto the wheel, his face going serious with concentration as he waited for the ride to start.

She laughed at the intense expression on his face and bumped her shoulder against his. “Oi, it’s just a giant oversized cuppa, we’re not marching into battle here.”

"It’s very serious," he said, fighting to keep a straight face.  The corners of his mouth turned upwards anyway and he bumped her shoulder in return just as the ride started to move. 

Miranda laughed out loud as she grabbed hold and started to spin their cup. “A little help here?” she asked, sticking her tongue out at him. “I’m not doing all the work!”

"Right, sorry!" he said, joining in to help her.  The scenery whirled past them as they spun in circles.  He laughed as they worked together, their hands criss crossing over one another as they spun faster and faster.

Her hair blew into her face as they spun around in circles; she felt a bit dizzy but she didn’t care, watching the brightly coloured cups spin around along with them. The momentum pushed her towards him and she grinned, her hands brushing against his.

He burst into giggles, leaning into her and trying to spin them even faster.  He was thwarted, however, by the ride slowly pulling to a stop.  He pouted slightly, trying to spin the cup a bit more before it stopped completely.

She was a bit wobbly-kneed when they climbed out of their teacup; she held tightly to his arm as they walked towards the exit. “So, was that a bit more your pace, then?” she asked with a chuckle.

"Absolutely," he said, grinning.  He was in much better spirits, and he rubbed Miranda’s arm lightly as she steadied herself against him.

Miranda beamed at him, kissing him on the cheek before pulling her park map from her bag. “Okay, so, where to next, then? Or we could go get something to eat, or see the shops, or catch a show…” Her eyes lit up. “Oooo, there’s fireworks tonight! We should stay and watch.”

"Yeah, we should," he agreed, his hand stroking her back lightly.  "We could go to the shops," he said, "I think I saw a place where you can build your own light saber."

"And I want to find a pair of mouse ears," she announced, giggling. "Alright, off to Tomorrowland, then?"

He nodded, grabbing her hand again as they made their way through the park.  When they entered the shop, Gary made a beeline for the light sabers and started trying to fit the pieces together.  

Miranda watched him vanish across the shop and laughed to herself before going and trying on every single pair of mouse ears. Once she’d finally settled on a pair of sparkly Minnie ears, she wandered over to the lightsaber display where Gary was struggling to put one together.

"I can’t work out which part’s supposed to go on first," he muttered, fumbling with the rings.  He looked up at Miranda, noticing the ears she had perched on top of her head.  "Cute," he remarked, smiling at her, before turning his attention back to his project.

Miranda grinned back at him before picking up one of the lightsaber hilts and a purple blade. Ignoring the instructions posted right there on the sign, she managed to get the ring over the blade with some difficulty. “This is ridiculously complicated for a children’s toy, why are you even-” She accidentally hit a button and the blade lit up. “Oh, well, that’s actually rather brilliant…”

"How’d you manage to get yours together before me," he said, frowning.  Once he finally got his together, he reached over and tapped Miranda’s blade with it, grinning at her.

She smiled as their blades connected and took a step back, readying herself for the inevitable duel. “I’m wondering if I should even mention this seeing as I have a lightsaber aimed at my chest, but I’ve only ever seen the first Star Wars movie…” she admitted sheepishly.

"It’s a good thing you waited until after we were married to admit that," he teased as he waved his blade around dramatically in the air.  He lunged forward, taking a swipe at her sword.

Laughing, she parried his lightsaber with her own, their battle getting progressively noisier as they moved about the shop.

Gary was so wrapped up in fending off Miranda’s jabs that he didn’t realize he had backed himself into a corner.  Trying to take a step back, he ran into a shelf of stuffed animals, knocking them onto the floor.

Miranda watched in mild horror as a pile of plush Yodas, Ewoks, and Jabbas tumbled onto the floor at Gary’s feet. A cross-looking salesgirl started towards them and she hurriedly pulled off her mouse ears. “So, erm, we’ll just be taking the lightsaber and these ears…”

She set her own lightsaber down and grabbed Gary’s hand, hauling him towards the till before he could knock anything else down.

Once they had paid, they hurried out of the shop, giggling as they went.  They wandered aimlessly through Tomorrowland, trying to decide what to do next.  Gary swung his light saber around idly as they walked.  Grinning, he prodded Miranda gently in the arm with it.

Miranda glanced over at him. “You know having that doesn’t  _actually_ make you a Jedi Knight, right?” she teased him.

"I beg to differ," he shot back, bouncing it lightly off of her head.  "Don’t mind me, just practicing.  Need to keep my skills up."  

She rolled her eyes and ducked slightly out from underneath it. “You’re such a dweeb,” she laughed. “D’you think they’re going to recruit you? We could nip into Star Tours and ask them if they can train you.”

He chased after her, laughing and playfully batting at her sides and back.  ”Might be a good idea.  You’re not a very challenging opponent,” he said, trying to get a rise out of her.

Miranda narrowed her eyes and tried to grab the lightsaber by its blade. “I’ll have you know I was winning back there.”

"You were not!" he scoffed, tugging the blade away from her.  Reaching around behind her, he tapped her backside lightly, giggling as he did.

She shrieked and darted away from him. “I absolutely was! And you are such a child!” she giggled.

"You’re a child!" he called back, hurrying after her.  He tried to loop an arm around her waist to capture her, but she escaped from his grasp.

Spinning around, she stuck her tongue out at him. “When do I ever pretend to be anything but?” she laughed. “And you’re the one with the plastic sword.”

"Lightsaber," he corrected her, "Completely different."  He waved it in front of her nose for emphasis.  "And you’ve got sparkly mouse ears on, so I think we’re even."

Miranda reached up to pat her mouse ears. “Well, at least you’re not afraid of this mouse,” she giggled.

Gary rolled his eyes affectionately.  ”You’re too cute to be scary,” he said, finally relenting and dropping his arm to his side.

"All mice are cute, I just happen to be the one you married," Miranda replied happily.

He smiled, leaning in to peck her lightly on the lips.  

They spent the rest of the day going on as many rides as they could manage.  Gary dragged them back on the teacups three more times, and they had quite the competition on the Buzz Lightyear themed shooting ride.  

As the evening grew dark and chilly, they made their way back to Main Street to find a spot to watch the fireworks from.

Miranda was grateful for the warmth of her jumper as they pushed through the crowd, her hand linked with Gary’s so they didn’t get separated. 

Just as they found a clear spot at the edge of the crowd, the street lamps dimmed.  As the music swelled and the first sparks flew through the air, Gary slipped his arm around Miranda’s waist and pulled her closer to him.  The last time they had seen fireworks together had been back in uni, followed by a kiss, and a confession, and the beginning of many missed opportunities.   So much had changed since then, but one thing that stayed constant was the way he felt when she was near. _  
_

The chill in the air didn’t seem so biting when she was in his arms; she leaned her head on his shoulder and realised her mouse ears were in the way. Giggling to herself, she slipped them off and clutched them safely in her free hand. The lights and the music surrounded them and she sighed happily, her gaze drifting from the sky to his profile, illuminated only by the bright bursts of light.

He turned to kiss the top of her head lightly, and one of the fake storefronts along Main Street caught his eye.  ”Come on,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and slipping past the ropes along the sidewalk.

She followed him, clinging tightly to his hand so she didn’t lose him. “Are we allowed to be here?” she wondered aloud, but nobody seemed to have noticed them sneaking away.

"Does it really matter?" he asked, grinning as he pulled them under an awning, leaning against the fake door.  He cupped his hand at her neck and pulled her into a kiss.

Miranda really didn’t want to get thrown out of the park for being somewhere they shouldn’t, but in the next moment Gary was kissing her and she decided she really didn’t care after all. Her eyes drifted closed and as the sound of the fireworks grew louder, leading to the grand finale, she suddenly felt the oddest sensation of deja vu, and her fingers involuntarily curled around his shoulder a bit tighter.

He smiled into their kiss, the music swelling in the background.  His fingers wove gently into her hair.  The whole world was fading away as they kissed; they could anywhere right now, for all he knew.  Even the loud crackles of fireworks barely registered to him.  He pulled away slightly to take a breath, his eyes fluttering open to look at her.

Even as he pulled away she kept her eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember why she felt this way. Realising she probably looked rather mad, she opened her eyes and looked into his.

"Sorry, I was just thinking…" she started, shaking her head a little to clear it. "Last time you kissed me watching the fireworks I didn’t remember it, yeah? But just now, I…" She was babbling, she knew it, but she needed to tell him. She looked up at the sky, the last sparks descending down around them. "I felt  _something_. Even if I don’t remember that night, I know it was… significant. And important.” She leaned her forehead against his. “Or maybe I’ve had too much sugar today and am simply going mad.”

He smiled at her, almost sadly, his hands grazing down to her waist.  He still wished she remembered; it was the one thing between them they still didn’t quite share.  She was trying to so hard, though, and even just that meant a lot to him.  Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers once again.

He probably couldn’t kiss her into remembering, but it certainly didn’t hurt to try.

As Miranda slid her arms around his neck and pressed close to him, letting herself get swept away by his kiss, the feeling of deja vu slipped away and all she could feel was the present, his hands on her waist and his lips on her own. Whatever had happened between them long ago, the kiss they’d shared under fireworks, had been the start of years of missed opportunities and lost chances. This was something entirely different.

They’d been given a second chance, and she couldn’t believe it had led to this moment.

She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.


	23. december 1st

With the sound of Sleigh Ride filling the flat, Miranda danced happily around the lounge as she fastened another sparkly green bauble on a hook to hang on the tree. The tree which she had put up completely on her own without bringing the entire thing down in the end. It was maybe just a bit crooked, but she could fix that later.

It was officially December and so the Christmas preparations had begun. She hadn’t started her shopping yet, but the flat was now in full merry mode, with fairy lights, tinsel, and various wintery knick-knacks perched on every single free space. 

She adjusted the reindeer ears perched on her head as she galloped around to decorate the opposite side of the tree, singing along happily as she went.

Gary took the steps to their flat two at a time, eager to get home to their warm flat.  It had started raining just before he left the restaurant, and he had not been prepared.  He ran his fingers through his damp curls as he opened their front door.  Miranda was dancing around their tree, her back to him, and he grinned as he watched her for a moment.  ”You’ve been busy.”

Miranda jumped slightly as she heard his voice, nearly dropping one of the fragile ornaments. She tucked it safely amongst the branches of the tree before skipping over to kiss him hello, the bells on her antlers jingling merrily as she did. .

His hands settled easily at her hips as she kissed him, squeezing her lightly.  As she pulled away, a drop of water splashed onto her face from his hair.  ”Sorry,” he said, smiling at her.

She brushed the raindrops from her cheek before realising he was positively soaked from the rain. “Oooh, we should get you out of those wet clothes, then,” she said with a smirk.

He laughed, kissing her on the forehead.  ”I’ll be right back.”  His hand lingered on her back for a moment before he slipped away to change into dry clothes.

She grinned, watching him as he went into the bedroom before she turned her attention back to the decorating. She pulled off the reindeer ears and swapped them for a furry Santa hat before hanging another few ornaments on the tree. As she moved past the window she could see the rain pouring down and she sighed, wishing it were snow instead. The wind was also looking pretty intense.

He returned after pulling on one of his thick winter jumpers.  Wrapping his arms around Miranda’s waist from behind, he rested his chin on her shoulder.  ”The tree looks great,” he said cheerfully, squeezing his arms around her.

She grinned, adjusting a strand of garland before regarding it with a critical eye. This was their first Christmas together and they were married. She still couldn’t believe it sometimes. Last Christmas they’d been constantly on the brink and unable to openly show affection, and now they’d been married over a month.

Shaking her head slightly to refocus her attention, she twisted in his arms until they were nose to nose. His hair was still damp from the weather and she pulled the santa hat off her head. “Keep your head warm or you’ll catch a cold,” she giggled, moving to put it on him.

He backed away quickly, ducking his head.  ”No thank you!”  The paper hat from his Christmas cracker was as festive as he got.  He moved behind the sofa, putting a barrier between them.

Giggling, she chased after him with the hat, tripping over a strand of lights as she did. “Where’s your, what-I-call, sense of merriment?” she laughed.

"I have plenty of merriment!" he exclaimed defensively, He spotted a roll of wrapping paper on the floor and scooped it up, pointing it at Miranda.  "I just don’t think I need a hat to prove it."

Miranda rolled her eyes and popped the hat back onto her head, grinning. “But camp Christmas hats are, as mum would say, such fun! I’ve got an entire box of them, you know.” She batted away the roll of paper he was using as a sword and slipped her arms around his neck. “I’ll concede that one doesn’t need a hat to be merry, but what are your thoughts on mistletoe?”

Pleased that he wasn’t being forced to don a santa hat, he smiled at her. “Why, have you got some?” he asked, running his hands up her back.

Her grin widened and she flicked her eyes upward pointedly. “Obviously!”

His eyes followed hers up and sure enough, there it was.  ”Well, I do take mistletoe  _very_ seriously.” He flicked his eyes back down towards her lips.   

"Oh, do you?" she murmured cheekily. She caught him looking at her mouth and she subconsciously licked her lips. "How seriously, exactly?" 

"Well I am  _obligated_  to kiss you, now,” he said, his lips hovering closer to hers.  ”A burden I have to bear,” he whispered cheekily, before pressing his lips to hers.

It was clearly a burden he didn’t mind, she thought to herself smugly as she curled her fingers into his jumper and pressed closer to him. Her eyes fluttered closed just as the lights flickered.

His hands traced lightly over her back as they kissed,  His aversion to Miranda’s Christmas hats aside (they looked better on her, anyway), he was thrilled to spend their first holiday season together as a couple.  And the mistletoe was an  _excellent_  start.

She was about to suggest that they go hunting for all the bits of mistletoe she’d hidden around the flat for this exact purpose when she noticed the music had stopped. When she opened her eyes in confusion, the flat had gone dark and the only light was from the candles she’d lit earlier.

"Must be the storm," she whispered once she’d broken the kiss, her arms still around him and her cheeks flushed from the snogging.

His eyes popped open in surprise.  A nearby candle lit Miranda’s face with its soft, flickering glow.  ”Guess that cancels our film plans,” he whispered back, only slightly disappointed.  He could hear the wind howling outside, and he nuzzled his face cozily into Miranda’s shoulder.

"Well, we’ve got plenty of candles, and there’s a torch in the drawer in the kitchen. Might as well carry on," she suggested with a giggle, squeezing her arms around him happily.

He kissed her cheek before reluctantly untangling himself from her arms.  Crossing over to the kitchen, he rummaged through the drawer for the torch.  As he walked back over to Miranda, he flicked it on and off again, checking to make sure it was working.  He giggled to himself slightly, trying to decide on a rude word to send in morse code, before remembering he didn’t actually  _know_  morse code.  Instead, he turned it on and off again in random long and short patterns, pretending he was sending a message.

Miranda carefully made her way through the darkened flat to his side; she slid her arm around his waist as the room flickered with the light from the torch. “I think it’s working, you nut,” she teased him, swiping it from his grasp. “And when I said carry on, I was talking more about  _this_.” She leaned in and kissed him again.

He threw his arms over her shoulders, happy to carry on kissing her for as long he could.  It was slow, and sweet, his hand brushing lightly over her hair.  ”Right,” he whispered when he eventually pulled back, his eyes locked with hers.

There was a flash of light, and as she went to pull him close, she heard what was the unmistakable rumble of thunder. She let out a nervous squeak and suddenly tightened her grip.

He felt Miranda tense in his arms, and squeezed his arms around her shoulders protectively.  ”You alright?”

She tried to look nonchalant but there was another clap of thunder, louder, and she cowered against him before she could stop herself. “Erm, you know how I get on you about being afraid of mice, and geese, and roller coasters…”

His hand skimmed lightly over her back.  The rest of the thought was clear from the iron grip she had on him, but he leaned his head against hers and waited for her to finish.

"…there’s a very small possibility that thunderstorms might make me just a bit… nervous," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I mean, nothing at all like when you see a mouse—" Lightning flashed again and she yelped. "Okay, exactly like that."

"I’ll try not to be too smug about that," he joked in an effort to cheer her up.  Kissing her on the temple, he added, "I’m sure it will pass soon," his voice a bit more gentle.

"I hope so. In the meantime, I’m just going to stay right here, so you’re not going anywhere," she said sheepishly, clinging to him and wincing as there was another thunderclap.

He stroked her hair lightly.  ”Not that I’m complaining about you clinging to me like a koala bear, but we could move somewhere a bit more comfortable?”  

She nodded against him, clutching the torch in her free hand as the other reached for his. “Wish there was somewhere soundproof,” she sighed, her shoulders tensing each time the thunder interrupted. Holding his hand tightly, she shone the torch ahead of them to light the way.

She led him to the sofa, and they plopped down on it, Gary leaning into her shoulder.  The thunder roared again and Miranda flinched.  He frowned, squeezing her hand.  ”We could build a fort,” he suggested, “Might muffle the sound a bit.”  Shrugging, he added, “Or at least be fun.”

Relieved at the possibility of a distraction, her demeanor brightened slightly. “That’s a brilliant idea! Let’s do it.” She grabbed his hand again and before they could get too comfortable sitting down she was dragging him back off the sofa towards the bedroom, still hanging onto the torch like a lifeline. “Sofa cushions for the base, and then we can push the table out to make more room…”

He grinned as he trailed behind her, listening to her chatter away about construction plans.  Once they were in the bedroom, she began tearing the blankets off the bed, piling them up in his arms.

After loading Gary’s arms up with the duvet and blankets she grabbed the pillows off the bed and tucked them under one arm. It was already starting to get a bit chilly without the electricity on. Another peal of thunder filled the room and she squealed and took off running out of the bedroom towards the safety of the lounge.

"Um, Miranda?" he said quietly, watching the light from the torch bounce around into the other room.  There was just enough light creeping in from the candles that he could slowly make his way to the door as he hugged the pile of blankets tightly to his chest.

Miranda was busy pulling the cushions off of the sofa, the torch laying on the table to illuminate the small area around her. When Gary emerged from the shadows she jumped slightly, giggling nervously.

"Good thing I’m not afraid of the dark," he teased, "Or I would have been in trouble."  He nodded towards the torch.  He dumped the blankets into a pile on the floor and started pushing the table out of the way.

She helped him move it out of the way towards the telly before grabbing one of the blankets and spreading it out over the floor. “It’s almost a shame there’s no electricity; it’d be quite fun to watch a film in our fort.”

She smirked suggestively and began to pull the cushions off of the sofa, giggling to herself. She plumped one of the squashy cushions before chucking it at him with a grin.

The cushion hit him squarely in the face.  ”Rude!”  He tossed it back at her, laughing.  Picking up one of the blankets from the floor, he started to spread it out.

Miranda giggled as she grabbed onto the opposite side of the blanket to help him. She’d almost forgotten about the storm until there was another bright flash of lightning, and then a particularly loud bit of thunder. She dropped the blanket and flung herself into his arms.

He enveloped her in his arms, still clutching the blanket in one hand.  ”It’s alright, it’s alright,” he whispered, swaying them slightly from side to side.

She lingered there in his arms for a bit longer than she absolutely needed to. “You realise I’m going to exploit this for as long as I can,” she admitted with a short laugh, hugging him tighter. “I mean, it’s really for your own benefit, so you can be all alpha male and protect me.”

"Mm, yes, it’s such a sacrifice for you," he teased, kissing the top of her head.  Standing up a bit straighter, he squeezed his arms around her tightly.  He had to admit that he  _did_ like protecting her for once, even if it was only from thunder.

Eventually she reluctantly extracted herself from his grasp, reaching to pick up her side of the blanket again, giggling. “Alright, since you’re lead architect on this project, how do we do this?”

Gary had set up the chairs in two lines across from each other, in the now empty space in front of the sofa.  ”We just need to drape the blanket over the chairs,” he said.  ”And then attach it with something.  Clips or elastic bands.  And then we’ll have a fort.”

Miranda gave him a salute. “Okay! I’m sure we have some in a drawer somewhere in the kitchen.” She left him with the torch before carefully picking her way through the room towards the kitchen. Using the vanilla scented candle they’d placed there for light, she found a box of elastics and grabbed a handful before hurrying back over to him.

"I remember making one of these back in uni with Stevie and the girls. Except it was a bit rubbish and it ended up collapsing on us," she said with a laugh at the memory.

"Hopefully we can avoid that," he said, chuckling as he secured the blanket to the chairs.  Once he was done, he stood back and surveyed his work, as best as he could in the low light.  "That should do it," he said with a nod.

She giggled along with him before she grabbed the rest of the blankets and dropped to her knees to crawl under the blanket tent. “Bit squishy down here,” she called. “We might have to cuddle. The horror.”

Gary crawled in after her, flopping down onto his back over the cushions.  He hadn’t set the chair up quite far enough apart, so his feet stuck out into the room.  ”Oh, yes, how awful” he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down on top of him.

She laughed and pulled the extra blankets up so they were covered by them. It was quite cosy, and even though she could still hear the storm outside, it didn’t seem as scary. “Oi, hands where I can see them! Wait, no, it’s pitch black, that won’t work,” she fumbled for the torch but accidentally bumped it underneath the sofa. Giving up, she cuddled close to him with another laugh.

"I’ll have to take advantage of that," he teased, sliding his hands over her hips.  Smiling, he closed his eyes, feeling her warm breath on his neck.

"You would," she snickered, and carefully leaned in to kiss him. Without any light, she completely missed her target and ended up kissing somewhere along his jaw. "Bit dark, sorry," she giggled.

He rocked his head back slightly when her lips brushed on his jaw.  ”S’alright,” he mumbled.  Lifting his head, he brought his hand up to her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.  His aim was somewhat better than hers and he sighed quietly as their lips met.

She let her eyes drift closed as she pressed closer to him, both for warmth and to be nearer. Her hands slid over his chest and up to his shoulders, her weight resting comfortably on top of his as she slowly kissed him. Everything slipped away, the world disappearing outside of their secret hiding place.

His hands slid over her back and he pressed his palms flat against her, as if he could pull her any tighter to him.  They were cut short, however, by a loud crack of lightning that even startled him.

Alarmed, she accidentally bit down on his bottom lip and squeaked in terror at the boom of thunder that followed the flash of lightning. She couldn’t see a thing, but at least she knew he was there, and she tried not to panic.

Gary yelped as she bit down on him, instinctively jerking away.  He recovered after a second, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest.  ”I think it’s getting farther away,” he whispered, trying to reassure her.

Still skittish, she nodded against him. “Right, well, until it’s gone I’m just going to stay right here, if that’s okay.” She blushed at her own cowardice and tucked her head into his neck, sighing quietly and willing herself to relax. 

"Fine by me."  He could feel her chest rising against his own, their breathing almost in sync.  His fingers traced idly up and down her arm as he listened to the wind howl outside.  

Each time the lightning flickered, she held her breath and waited for the accompanying rumble of thunder. But Gary was right; it was moving away from them, the pauses between the two becoming longer. And as they did, her eyes grew heavier and she loosened her death grip on his waist.

He could feel her relax against him as the storm passed, nuzzling even more deeply into the side of his neck.  The thunder was just a faint rumble in the distance now, eclipsed by the steady rain that was still pouring outside.  He clasped his hands over Miranda’s back, fiddling slightly with his wedding band. 

She always fell asleep quickly when she was in his arms; from the first time they’d shared a bed together and almost every single night since. Even with the rain lashing noisily against the window panes, his steady heartbeat against her chest and his arms around her were enough to make her feel safe. 

He slid the ring up and down his finger; he often found himself playing with it during spare moments. It was the physical evidence that they had really married, that this wasn’t all some mad, wonderful dream. He looked down at Miranda resting against his chest, unable to tell if she had already fallen asleep. “I love you,” he whispered.

When she next opened her eyes, it was the following morning. The daylight was blocked out partly by their blanket fort, but it was bright enough that she could tell it was morning and that Gary was still sleeping underneath her. She yawned quietly and nuzzled her cheek against his chest, making herself comfortable again.

Miranda’s movements nudged Gary awake and he blinked his eyes sleepily. “Hello,” he said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes as he curled his other arm around Miranda’s shoulder.

She sighed softly, still drowsy, and murmured in response. Part of her was wondering if the electricity was back on, but as she burrowed under the duvet she realised she really didn’t care. She was far too content to linger there in his arms for as long as she could, the rest of the day and their responsibilities ignored.

Gary let his eyes flutter back closed as they lay there together, considering texting Clive to let him know he’d be late.  He shifted slightly, realizing that one of his legs had gone numb and tingly.  In an attempt to wake it up, he shifted back and forth, accidentally letting Miranda roll off of him.

She landed on the blankets next to him with a soft squeak of surprise, giggling. As she stretched lazily, her hand bumped the torch from the night before and she retrieved it from where it had rolled under the sofa. “Battery’s gone,” she noticed, sitting up and her head bumping gently against the blanket roof. “Hoping the electricity’s back on, or we’re in trouble…”

He propped himself up on his elbows, yawning as the world came into focus.  ”Right,” he said, “We should check that.”  Sitting all the way up, he hooked his arms around Miranda’s waist and squeezed her to him.  ”But first,” he said, before kissing over her cheek with playful, sloppy kisses. 

"Gary!" she shrieked with a laugh, giggling as she was once more pulled into his arms. Not that she minded, really. Sliding her hands over his shoulders, she shivered involuntarily from the chill in the air. "Cold," she whispered sheepishly.

He chuckled under his breath as he untangled his arms from around her and lifted her hands from his shoulders.  Cupping his hands around hers, he blew warm air on them, grinning as he did.  He flicked his eyes up at her.  ”Better?”

Even as she felt the warmth from being close to him, the chill still pricked at the back of her neck but she tried to ignore it. Maybe the heating was just taking its time coming back on after the storm the night before. 

She moved closer to him, relishing the extra heat, and softly kissed him. “It feels pretty chilly out there. We should stay in here a bit longer.” She grinned mischievously at him.

"Not much to do in here."  He raised his eyebrows suggestively, matching her demeanor.  "We’ll have to find a way to entertain ourselves."  He kissed her again, gently squeezing her hands as he did.

She just grinned even wider, intertwining her fingers with his. “Oi, there’s plenty to do in here!” With a laugh she slipped her hands from his grasp and ran them over his back. “Six foot one inch’s worth to do, to be exact.” 

Gary burst out into laughter, giggling against her lips.  With his hands free, he pushed her over onto her back, still laughing, and buried his face into her neck, pressing kisses up and down the curve of it and nipping at her ear.  Reaching blindly behind him, he grabbed for a blanket, pulling it over them as best as he could.

She was still giggling, rather pleased with her naughty joke, and as he kissed over her neck she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, still grinning. “I can’t believe that line actually worked on you,” she teased him, her fingertips dancing lightly over his back. “You’re too easy.”

"Any line would work on me, honestly," he said, his voice muffled against her skin.  His hands moved over her body, finding their way along her sides and over her breasts.  His kisses made their way over her cheek, quick and light, until his lips claimed hers again.

She sighed happily and slid her hands into his hair when he kissed her again. She could feel his hands moving over her and she pressed against him in response, her lips curving into a cheeky smile underneath his. 

He clawed at her clothing playfully, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt.  A quiet moan escaped against her lips as he found her soft skin.  Tearing his mouth away from hers, almost reluctantly, he kissed down to the opposite side of her neck, almost giggling at how ridiculously happy and light he felt.

His giggling set her off into a fit of her own, and she freely laughed as she tangled her fingers in his curls. “Only you could seduce me and make me laugh at the same time, you know,” she teased him, her fingertips coming to rest at the nape of his neck as she gently held him to her.

"It’s a talent," he mumbled between kisses. The truth was, she was the only person who made him this ridiculously giddy, that brought out his silly side so completely. With one last kiss behind her ear, he sat up and began to tug her shirt up over her shoulders.

She followed him eagerly, sitting up and helping him remove her shirt. Immediately the cool air hit her skin and she clutched at the blankets with a laugh. “Oi, it’s freezing in here!” With a salacious grin she pulled at his jumper impatiently. It seemed a bit counter-productive to be removing clothes in sub-arctic temperatures, but she had the sneaking suspicion he had other ways to keep her warm.

He shivered slightly as he dropped his jumper to the floor; she hadn’t been exaggerating about the temperature.  After fiddling with the clasp of her bra for a moment, he tugged it off of her, discarding it out into the room.  Her skin was warm to his touch and he leaned down and pressed his chest to hers, murmuring quietly.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his warm skin against her own, though she still shivered involuntarily as her lips found his once more and she kissed him. Her hands wandered over his sides before she grinned and reached for his trousers. Her theory was, brilliantly enough, the faster they were undressed the sooner she could burrow under the blankets with him once more.

He inhaled sharply and arched against her when she pulled the fabric away from his waist.  Rolling off to the side, he quickly kicked them off out of the tent and immediately began pulling at hers.

Giggling, she helped him as best as she could, still shivering from the chill. As they finished removing the last pieces of clothing from one another, she couldn’t stop grinning. When everything was finally gone, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her legs with his, sighing at the warmth of his body against her own.

He smiled and buried his face against her chest, lips brushing roughly over her.  His fingertips danced lightly over her side, just barely tickling her skin as they made their way down her body.

His light touch on her side made her burst into giggles all over again; she couldn’t help it — she’d always been extremely ticklish and he, extremely merciless in exploiting that weakness. “Unfair advantage,” she whined softly, her fingers sliding into his hair.

He laughed as she squirmed at his touch.  ”Sorry,” he said, completely unconvincingly.  His fingers grazed over her thigh.  ”I’ll have to make it up to you.”  Smirking, his hand found the spot it had been headed all along.

Her fingers wove more tightly into his hair — another perk of Gary being too lazy to go get his hair cut, and she was quite fond of his curls — and her hips involuntarily lifted up to meet his hand. She completely forgot what she’d been about to say, and instead his name escaped her as a broken gasp. He cut off her gasp, covering her mouth with his.  Still feeling mischievous, he moved his fingers slowly over her, drawing out the anticipation. She no longer felt the chill in the air; instead all she felt was heat on her skin and everywhere inside as he teased her. He seemed to have endless patience, while she had very little, especially when they were like this. But he always seemed to get his way because he was  _exceptionally_  good it it. She moaned quietly into his kiss, communicating the only way she could — sinking her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer.

He let her pull him closer, his body fitting into her curves, her reactions to his touch driving him absolutely mad.  His teeth nipped lightly at her bottom lip and he pressed himself against her, his free hand grasping at her back as he pulled her tighter to him. She groaned in impatience and arousal as he pressed against her, hands sliding through hair a bit more roughly than before. Her kisses were clumsy and desperate, her breathing ragged as she rocked against his hand, his fingers knowing her so perfectly that she felt herself losing control with every passing second.

He breathed out her name, shifting against her as his resolve weakened, needing her as desperately as she wanted him.   Releasing his grip on her back, he slipped his other hand between her legs, fingers sliding into her without breaking his rhythm. Her head fell back against the cushions, breaking the kiss and her cries of ecstasy finally spilling forth without anything to quiet her. Her trembling fingers grasped at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, leaving marks behind when she let go to pull at the blankets beneath her. Every stroke of his fingers was quickly pushing her closer, and when she finally flew over the edge she could only cry out his name.

His eyes met hers.  ”Hi,” he said, a smug smile plastered across his face.  His chest puffed up a bit, pleased with his own prowess.

His smirk was infuriatingly sexy, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, we’ve completely defiled this pillow fort now.” With what strength she had left, she pushed him off of her to her side and then scrambled to straddle him, grinning cheekily. “Still cold?” she asked, feigning innocence as best as she could.

Gary’s eyes widened and he let out a small yelp as she pushed him over, reaching for her hips as she positioned herself above him.  ”Warming up,” he said, his voice strangled as his head rocked back into the cushions.

Her pulse quickening with excitement, she leaned down over him and kissed him slowly, exercising what little patience she had left to not shag him until he was as helpless as she had been. Instead she strayed from his lips to press kisses over his skin, finding her favourite spot between his neck and shoulder as her hips settled over his.

He moaned helplessly against her lips, squirming impatiently beneath her.  His fingers dug into her hips as she kissed over him, every inch of his body pleading with her.

Flicking her gaze up towards his face, she couldn’t help but grin impishly. And unlike him, she was quick to give in. She gave his neck a playful nibble before shifting her weight back and letting her hand slide down to guide him into her. Her breath shuddered slightly and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before her grin widened and she looked down at him with lust and affection. He let out a ragged breath as he slid easily into her, his whole world reduced to this little bubble on their floor.  His hands moved desperately over her body, his hips bucking up to meet her, to pull them even closer together.

Her hands slid over his chest, fingers pressing into his skin as she moved over him, her thighs gripping his hips. Every time their bodies collided she felt herself lose a tiny bit of her control. And as her hands traced over his warm skin, seeking purchase, she didn’t care at all that she was losing control. He was the only one who did that to her, and she loved watching him do the same.

His whole body was tensing, and he held on to Miranda as tightly as he could.  He choked out her name a syllable at a time, their bodies crashing together in a tangle of passion and impatience.  His hand found its way into her hair and he wove his fingers through it, tugging on it harder than he meant.

His fingers twisting in her hair pulled her back to reality; she flinched involuntarily and reached up to grab his hand. “Please don’t scalp me,” she managed to giggle, her rhythm faltering as she rubbed gingerly at her head.

His eyes widened as he realized what he had done.  ”Sorry!” he exclaimed, “Got a bit carried away.” Untangling his hand from her hair, he brushed his fingers delicately over her cheek.

She grinned and leaned her cheek into his hand for a moment. “I liked it, though,” she admitted with a smirk, before she kissed him again, the urgency and the need taking over her as she found their rhythm once more.

He smiled back at her.  ”I’ll keep that in m—” his words stopped short as she rocked against him, and he eagerly matched her movements. Looping his arms behind her neck, he held her against him. She held back a giggle at his expression; that was one way to make him stop talking, apparently. She bit playfully at his bottom lip, much more gently than she had the night before during the thunderstorm, and slid her hands over his chest as she moved with him.

He moaned against her lips, clutching at her back as they moved together.  She had him completely at her mercy and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.  Their damp skin stuck together; the chill in the air long forgotten between the heat of their bodies. She was completely overwhelmed by everything; the only thing she could focus on was him and the way he made her feel, the way nobody else ever could. She was close, every kiss and every touch sending her further towards the end. Her fingers grasped frantically at anything she could reach; they curled into something soft and she realised a second too late that she’d managed to wrench the blanket roof of their fort free and it was now fluttering down to cover them.

Gary opened one eye when he felt the blanket drape over them.  ”What are you doing?” he asked, confused.  He was so close to the edge that it ached, and he slowed his pace only slightly as he tried to pull the blanket off of them, with no success.

Miranda barely registered their fort essentially collapsing around them; she groaned his name impatiently when he slowed and pressed her face into his neck, her kisses urgent and heated. She shuddered in his arms as she finally came apart, toes curling into the blankets and her body curled tightly around his.

His confusion over the collapse of their hideaway quickly faded away at the sight and sound of Miranda coming undone.  He would never tire of it, of seeing her at her most raw and uninhibited.  He wrapped his arms around her waist when she collapsed against him, bracing himself tightly against her as he followed her over.

His heartbeat felt like thunder under her cheek, and she closed her eyes and listened to it until her own racing heart had slowed enough for her to catch her breath. The ruin of their pillow fort surrounded them, and she gratefully pulled the extra blankets over their entwined bodies. Laying her head back down, she pressed a soft kiss against his skin before sighing contently.

Gary stroked her hair slowly, watching her head rise and fall with his chest.  Now that they were resting again, the cold air settled on his skin, making him shudder.  ”Should probably check on the heating,” he said quietly, without making any move to get up.

She snuggled against him for warmth, her eyes still heavy. “If we freeze to death like this, it’d be rather mortifying,” she agreed with a soft laugh. Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away, wrapping one of the extra blankets around herself as she sat up. The flat really  _was_  freezing.

Gary draped a blanket over his shoulders, kissing Miranda lazily on her cheek before he stood up.  He plodded sleepily over towards the thermostat, but stopped short when he passed the window.  ”Oh!” 

Miranda was still cocooning herself up in the blanket when she heard his exclamation. “What’s wrong?” she asked, already rising to her feet and padding over to him.

"It snowed!"  Furrowing his brow, he peered out the window more intently, "A lot."  He hugged the blanket tighter around himself, as if just the sight of snow made him colder. 

Her eyes widened in shock and surprise; she elbowed him gently out of the way so she could peer out the window at the roads below. “I suppose they’ll clear the roads soon enough, but…” She grinned slyly. “You probably shouldn’t go into work today. I mean, nobody will be out if the weather’s bad…”

He leaned against the counter, considering her suggestion.  It was a Monday, after all, not exactly the height of business to begin with.  ”You do make a compelling argument…” he said, glancing over at his mobile.  

She followed his gaze to his mobile, knowing he was conflicted. “And you don’t want anyone driving in this weather, yeah? So give them a day off, give yourself a day off!” She stepped closer to him and slipped her arms loosely around his neck. “And if you need further convincing, I can drop the blanket, but maybe not until the heat comes back on.”

He glanced down to where her hands were still gripping the blanket around her. “Right, well, that settles that.” Grinning eagerly, he grabbed his mobile from the table and started to text his employees as headed over to the thermostat.  Somehow it had gotten switched off, and he turned it back on and nudged the temperature up a couple degrees for good measure.

She grinned back at him as she watched, and as soon as the heat was turned back on, she sighed gratefully. It’d be a bit before the flat was warmed up proper, but at least they had electricity again. For now, however, they’d need to resort to more creative ways of conserving heat. Which is why she skipped over to his side again and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Gary wrapped his arms around her shoulders, enveloping them both in a sort of upright duvet cocoon.  His body pressed against hers, their noses and foreheads bumping together.  He leaned in to kiss her, the sound of the door opening going completely unnoticed.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against hers, and she was just about to suggest they have a hot shower when she heard someone shriek.

She opened her eyes in horror and twisted slightly out of Gary’s embrace to see Stevie at the front door, snow melting off her heavy coat and boots, and her gloved hands covering her face.

"Stevie, what are you doing here!" Miranda hissed, annoyed and embarrassed.

"You were supposed to be at work ten minutes ago!" Stevie snapped back, still shielding her eyes. "Instead you’ve been slagging off — or is it  _shagging_  off, hm?”

Gary craned his neck around to look at Stevie and sighed.  The only thing he missed about living alone was not having people constantly barging into his flat.   He instinctively wrapped the blanket around him tighter, even though Stevie’s eyes were covered.  ”Well, give us a minute!” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  

Miranda clutched her blanket around herself as she moved towards the sofa to collect her discarded clothes. “Stevie, why are you even opening the shop today? Nobody’s going to come in!” 

Stevie wasn’t as easily swayed as Gary had been. “Well, there’s other things we could do, like get the accounts in order…”

Miranda attempted to wriggle back into her clothes without unwrapping the blanket from around her.

"Or you could give us a snow day, say it’s for the well-being of our mental health, and  _go home?_ ”

"Fine, have it your way, but don’t blame me if our shop goes under again."  And with that, she turned on her heels, nearly bumping into the door because she was still covering her eyes.  "And lock your door!"

"We didn’t go under! We were still above water, just doggy paddli—oh, she’s gone now," Miranda trailed off, turning back to Gary with a sheepish grin. "She might have a point about the locking the door bit, though."

"Or she could knock!" he said, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.  "But maybe I’m expecting too much."  

Miranda snorted derisively. “Some things never change.” Her expression lightened considerably when she realised what she’d just accomplished. “So we both have the day off now!” she said cheerfully.

Gary shuffled over towards her, kicking a pillow out of the way.  ”There really isn’t a point in getting dressed now,” he said with a grin, “Fancy a hot shower?”

She matched his cheeky grin with one of her own, reaching for him with one hand and letting go of the blanket with the other. “You read my mind,” she said with a laugh, and began to haul him towards the bathroom with her.

 


	24. new years eve

Gary slid his hand lightly over Miranda’s back as they headed up the steps to their flat.  They had slipped out of the New Year’s Eve party at the restaurant, escaping out through the kitchen when no one was looking.  Penny had cornered him to ask when they were going to give her grandchildren, and even began advising him on which positions were optimal for conceiving.  After that encounter, all plans of staying at the party until midnight were immediately scrapped.  

The thrill of devising an escape had made Miranda even more giggly than she already had been at the party. (The punch had been spiked, thanks to Stevie). As she unlocked the door to their flat and pushed it open, she immediately felt more comfortable away from the crowds and her mum’s inappropriate questions.

"Right, well, hopefully it’s another 365 days before you have to endure another conversation like  _that_ ,” Miranda teased him gently.

"That’s optimistic," he said, still a bit dazed.  He locked the door behind them, something he’d been a bit more careful about lately, especially with all their friends still next door.  "Right, well, we can just ring in the new year, just the two of us."  He produced a pair of noisemakers from his pocket.  "Even grabbed these on the way out."

She grinned, taking one and checking the clock again. “We’ve got a minute.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it in excitement, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much all night. It had been a crazy, tumultuous, wonderful year, and she was excited for the next.

As the seconds counted down, she slid her gaze from the clock to his face for a moment, beaming happily.

When they reached the last ten seconds, he began counting out loud.  At second five, he realized how much sillier counting down seemed when there wasn’t a huge group of people. He pressed on, though, and when it finally struck midnight, he cheered loudly and blew happily into his noisemaker.  Turning towards Miranda, he pulled her into an embrace with their still-clasped hands.  ”Happy new year,” he whispered, their noses almost touching.

"Happy new year," she replied happily, releasing his hands to wrap her arms around his neck as she sweetly kissed him. She could hear the sounds of the party downstairs, the music cranked up loudly and people cheering. But she didn’t care; she was more than happy to be celebrating with just him, in private.

He squeezed her waist tightly, lifting her up slightly onto her toes.  The noisemaker went clattering to the floor, forgotten.  ”Not a bad start,” he said, grinning, when he eventually pulled away.

Miranda grinned back at him, nodding in agreement. “If this sets up the rest of the year, you won’t hear me complaining.” She pressed another brief kiss to his lips before sighing softly and resting her head on his shoulder, still smiling. “We should at least try and watch the fireworks, if you think you can stay awake long enough,” she teased him.

"I’m wide awake, thank you," he shot back, suppressing a yawn.  His arms still tight around her, he swayed her from side to side.  The faint sound of fireworks cracking in the distance caught his attention, and he quickly released her.  "Come on, they’ve already started."

She grinned and let him lead the way towards the window in the lounge overlooking the street, but before they could get too far she’d slipped on the noisemaker he’d chucked on the ground. With a giggly shriek, she grabbed his arm.

Instead of steadying herself, her grip on his arm knocked Gary off balance, and they both went tumbling backwards onto the sofa. Miranda landed uncomfortably on his arm, and their legs tangled together as they tried to get up, but failed miserably.  Resigned, Gary leaned his head back against the sofa arm and laughed.

She joined in the laughter, her hands curling around his shoulders as she steadied herself. The fall had shaken her, but not so much as what was now happening to her. It had happened once before, the overwhelming sense of deja vu, but now she realised it wasn’t so much deja vu as it was a memory, from long ago, finally manifesting after being locked away for fifteen years. She wasn’t sure why her mind had refused to let her remember it,  _believe_  it, but suddenly, there it was.

And as she looked down into his eyes, for a moment she was seeing him at 21 years, that night they’d kissed just after midnight. And she herself felt like she’d stepped back in time along with him, painfully awkward and nervous around everyone except for him. The tension between them had been unbearable. Fifteen years ago, he’d kissed her and set them both on separate paths. And now, Miranda’s face broke out into a grin before she leaned in and kissed him passionately, feeling as though they’d finally come full circle.

He made a noise of surprise against her lips, her sudden burst of passion catching him off guard.  His hands slid into her hair and over her back, his fervor quickly matching hers. 

Her heart felt like it was about to burst from happiness, and she started to giggle in between kisses, her hands cupping his face, thumbs lightly caressing his skin. Overwhelmed, she pulled away and touched her forehead to his for a moment before she pulled away and opened her eyes, breathless and unsure how to explain the ridiculous grin on her lips.

He smiled back at her tentatively, feeling like he was missing out on something.  ”What’s gotten into you?”

“We’ve done this before,” she answered, her eyes soft with wonder and relief. “I mean, not the tripping bit – I do that loads. But I was wearing heels, and I tripped and you caught me, and we landed on the sofa just like this. And you kissed me. I mean, you kissed me proper, an actual snog.” 

The grin dropped from his face and he was left with an expression of complete disbelief.   She couldn’t—  ”Don’t,” he said, his voice hoarse.  ”Don’t joke.”  It stung a bit, that she would try to get his hopes up like this.  She was having him on.  She had to be.  

"I’d never," she insisted gently, a touch concerned by his reaction. "Not about this — I know how much it meant to you." She swallowed the lump in her throat, the unexpected emotion catching her off guard. "You told me once I fell asleep after, so I don’t remember what you said. But I do remember how you made me feel that night when you kissed me." Her smile was soft, hopeful, silently asking him to believe her.

His eyes lit up as he realized she was serious.   ”Really?” he said, more of a statement than a question. The kiss had been his secret for so long, something he carried close to his chest wherever he went.  He had accepted it was something they’d never share, and really, it wouldn’t have mattered.  Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it lightly.  The reality of her confession was still sinking in, and he was at a loss for what to say.

She nodded, her heart racing. “Really.” She squeezed his hand in response. “Sorry it took me so long,” she said sheepishly, blushing slightly.

She had barely finished her sentence when he crushed his lips against hers.  He was smiling, grinning, almost laughing into their kiss, expressing his happiness the way he knew best.  His hands traced on her back that she didn’t need to apologize; his breath whispered into her that there were no secrets between them, not anymore.  The fireworks still glittered and cracked outside their window, but they were long forgotten.

Giggling softly, she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her, their kisses clumsy and fueled by emotion rather than any sort of coordination. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief, that the missing pages in their story had finally been written. And of course, it was a new year and a new chapter, and she had no idea what was still to happen.

But at that moment, she didn’t really need to worry about that. Instead she just wanted to share in his joy, his passion. “I love you,” she said quietly, looking up at him with a grin.

"I love you, too," he replied.  His face started to ache, but he couldn’t stop smiling.  He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to for days.  "Always," he added after a moment, his eyes meeting hers.

Her heart did a flip when he added that last bit, her grin widening as she shook her head fondly and then leaned into his embrace, her fingers lazily stroking the back of his neck. She’d completely forgotten about the fireworks until a rather loud burst of noise drew her to glance out the window at them. “We missed the show,” she observed, but quickly turned her attention back to Gary. “Finding it hard to care, though…” she admitted quietly, contently.

"There’s always next year," he said, holding her gaze.   _And the year after…_  The years stretched out ahead of them, ready to be filled with adventures and misadventures, traditions and new experiences.  He marveled at how loving her had changed him, how the very things that used to terrify him now brought him joy.   **  
**

He leaned in and kissed her triumphantly, as the last sparks of the fireworks finale faded away into the night.


	25. jealous (part II)

Since she’d first met him, one of the things that had always endeared Gary to her was that he was absolutely, completely oblivious to the fact that he was the totty of the group. Their female classmates fawned over him all throughout uni, and though she’d watched him date more than one of them with steam coming out of her ears, Gary had, for the most part, been unaware of the effect his gorgeousness had on other people—including her.

And even though they’d been married for three months—it still gave her pause when she remembered that she was _actually married to him_ —she still felt that flare of jealousy when someone tried to flirt with him when they were out. It had happened more than once tonight at Stevie’s birthday party, and everyone noticed except for Gary. Part of her wished he’d realise it only so he could tell them he was married, and have you met my hilarious, gorgeous, talented, and brilliant wife?

At any rate, by the end of the night she was feeling rather annoyed and self-conscious, and unusually quiet as they headed back up to their flat.

Gary bounded up the steps after Miranda, still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from all the dancing and socializing.  He’d spent a large portion of the evening chatting with people about the restaurant. They were surprisingly interested in hearing all about the running of it, and he was never one to turn down a bit of free publicity.  He felt a bit bad for not paying attention to Miranda, but since it was Stevie’s birthday, he thought she’d rather spend the evening with her best friend, anyway.

"Have a good time?" he asked cheerfully as the walked into the flat.

Miranda offered a brief smile and nodded a bit too quickly before brushing past him to go make a cup of tea. “Loads of fun,” she said absently as she started the kettle. “Bit glad Stevie didn’t go with a theme this year; it’s much easier to dance when you’re not wearing a popcorn costume.”

He laughed.  ”You made such a cute piece of popcorn, though,” he leaned against the counter next to her.  When she didn’t respond, he added, “Stevie’s friends are nice.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she focused on her mug of tea, watching the hot water change colour as the teabag sank to the bottom. “Well, they certainly liked  _you_ , didn’t they?”

"I guess so," he said with a shrug.  "They seemed really interested in hearing about the restaurant."  Moving closer to her, he slipped his arm around her waist.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Right, the restaurant. You’re a bit thick sometimes, did you know?” She slid out of his grasp and went to go get the milk and sugar for her tea.

"What do you mean?" He followed her across the kitchen, sliding his hand lightly over her back when she stopped to pick up the sugar.  He was getting the feeling she was cross, but didn’t know why.  "Is something wrong?"  

Distracted, she added far too much sugar to her tea as she considered her response. “I suppose I’m still just a bit incredulous that you  _still_ can’t work out when someone is flirting with you. Well, aside from me,” she couldn’t help adding. “They  _absolutely_  were trying to chat you up, and not about the restaurant.”

"What? Don’t be ridiculous," he said with a laugh.  "They were just being friendly, that’s all.

"This is exactly what is so maddening!" she replied. "You’re the only one who doesn’t realise what’s going on. If anything, your adorable cluelessness encourages it." She rolled her eyes again before taking a sip of her tea and promptly making a face at how sweet it was.

He thought back to earlier in the evening.  Maybe they  _had_ been standing a bit closer than necessary, but he still didn’t think much of it.  His mouth gaped open, a few things clicking into place in his mind.  ”Are you…  _jealous_?”  

Miranda blushed for just a moment before recovering. “Are you actually surprised that I would be?” she shot back. She was, admittedly, still rather self-conscious about herself, even though she knew she had no reason to be. And even though she would never admit it aloud, a small part of her had always feared that Gary would prefer someone a bit prettier, a bit quieter, a bit less  _mad._

"Yes!" he exclaimed, starting to laugh again.  "D’you really think that after all we’ve been through, I’m going to run off with the next girl that looks at me?"

She couldn’t believe his cheek; he was actually laughing at her. She reached out and pinched him on the arm. “Oi, rude! This isn’t exactly easy for me to admit, you know, that you’re actually quite the catch.” She couldn’t resist a dig of her own, before she folded her arms, still annoyed. “If you’d actually noticed themselves throwing at you, you might have said something.”

He yelped when she pinched him, flinching away from her.  Still completely unable to take any of this seriously, he took a step towards her.  ”And what should I have said, hm?” 

"Oh, I don’t know… excuse me while I go snog my lovely wife?" she joked, allowing the tiniest of smiles to betray her. He was moving closer to her, and her fingers twitched slightly, the urge to demonstrate on him starting to pull at her. "Maybe it seems a bit silly, but… I do like being reminded that you’re mine." 

He quirked his eyebrow.  ”Really?  Well, I’ll be sure to start all conversations with a five minute speech about how wonderful you are.”  He grinned at her, only half joking.  If he were better with words he could go on for ten.

"Now I’ll expect nothing less than that," she teased him, her smile twisting into a smirk as she set down her unfinished tea and closed the distance between them. "And since it looks like you’re the one who needs a reminder…" Her hand slid up his chest as her other snaked around his waist. Bringing her lips close to his ear, she whispered so quietly only he could hear, "you  _are_  mine.”

All the playfulness from moments before melted away with her breath on his skin.  He clutched at her back instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as he leaned in to her embrace.

She nipped playfully at his earlobe before letting her lips glide over his neck. Her hand toyed slowly with the top button on his shirt. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was being a tease, but she didn’t care. She finally had him alone, and he only had eyes for her. A quiet whine escaped from his throat as her lips skidded lazily over his skin.  His hands slipped under the hem of her blouse, palms against her warm skin, pulling her hips against his.   As her fingers wrenched the buttons free, she continued to kiss and nibble at his neck, her teeth leaving soft marks behind that were quickly soothed by her kisses. Finally getting the last button undone, she quickly moved to kiss his lips, pressing her clothed chest against his bare one.

He moaned weakly as her lips crashed into his.  Her possessiveness and control was picking him apart bit by bit.  He yearned to feel her chest against his, and he tugged weakly at the edge of her blouse as a signal, allowing her to keep the upper hand. After shoving his shirt off of his shoulders, she broke the kiss just long enough to pull off her own blouse, letting it drop onto the floor at their feet before she went back in for another deep kiss, her hands curling into his hair and her teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

His fingertips grazed lightly over her back before quickly unhooking her bra, eager to feel her against him.  He cupped the back of her head in his hand, pulling her deeper into the kiss, inhaling sharply at her teeth tugging at him. The moment her bare skin connected with his she let a moan slip out, and along with it felt part of her control slip away, too. She’d never felt such a desperation before; her hands shook slightly as she pressed them into his flesh, fingers exploring every bit of exposed skin until she was undoing the fasten of his trousers.

He was clinging tightly to her, concentrating on her trembling fingers sliding down his body, torn between reaching down to help her and not wanting to pull his hands from her naked skin.  His knees weakened as her hands drew closer to their destination and he buried his face into her neck, pressing tiny kisses along its curve.

His lips on her skin set off a chain reaction of sensation and determination; she hurriedly finishing undressing him and then herself before she pressed her hands against his chest and gave him a playful shove towards the sofa, giggling as she followed him. He grabbed her hands while he walked backwards to the sofa, pulling her along with him.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment, his gaze roaming over her body.  

With a grin she pushed him down onto the sofa and then quickly straddled his thighs; she took her time kissing him once more, even though her body was aching with need and urgency . She poured her want and her desperation into that kiss, knowing he could feel it, just as she could feel his. Gary hooked his hands over her shoulders, pulling her closer, needing to feel her against him. He pleaded for her wordlessly, his lips and tongue and teeth and hands and body speaking for him.

Unable to stand it for a moment longer, she tore her mouth from his with a ragged gasp for air. With one hand still anchored around his shoulder, she lifted herself up onto her knees and grinned down at him, her eyes burning with excitement and arousal. With a groan of his name she sank down onto him, bringing their bodies completely together and wrapping her other arm around his neck, her breathing laboured. His head rocked back and he sank back into the cushions as she moved against him. With every movement he gasped softly, his toes curling into the carpet.  He loosened his grip on her shoulders, his hands skidding slowly over her back before grasping at her hips.

As she moved with him, their bodies entwined, she dropped her lips to his shoulder and breathed his name quietly into his skin, her grip on him tightening. She rather liked being in control, and with him being oddly submissive tonight she let herself go, her slow pace steadily building, her muffled cries becoming louder.

He couldn’t keep his hands in one place for long; he needed to touch every part of her, to map out every part all over again.  Eventually his fingers curled tightly into her hair, pulling her head back firmly. He locked eyes with her intently, holding her gaze as they rocked together.  All joking from earlier aside, he wanted to make sure she knew what she meant to him, how she made him feel, like no one else ever did.  He was  _hers_ , completely.

She held his gaze for as long as she could; the intensity in his eyes made her lose it slightly. There was the passion, the possessiveness, that she’d been hoping to see earlier when those women had been chatting him up. The undeniable proof that she has his, and he was hers. With a ragged moan, she clasped her fingers behind his neck and quickened her movements, rocking harder into him, her kisses urgent and sloppy as she marked his neck and shoulder with her teeth.

He gasped out her name, every muscle in his body tensing and trembling.  His fingers still woven tightly into her hair, he held her against him, their bodies moving in their familiar rhythm.  As the heat began to spread through every part of her, she buried into his shoulder and cried out his name softly. At that moment, she let everything go — her jealousy, her control, all of it. All that remained was the unyielding love she had for him, the overwhelming desire she felt to always be this close to him, and the indescribable ecstasy now taking over her. He trembled beneath her, her name spilling out between labored breaths.  Clinging desperately to her, he kissed whatever bits of skin he could reach as he came apart in her arms.

The feeling of his heartbeat was the first thing she became aware of when her mind returned; she could feel it pounding against her chest. She dropped a soft kiss onto his shoulder where her head lay, her eyes still heavy and unfocused as her fingertips glided over his upper back. Her body still trembled from the intensity of her release; it always did when she was with him.

Gary dropped sleepily back into the cushions, sighing contently.  His fingers traced lazily over the back of her neck.  ”I should clearly make you jealous more often,” he said with a laugh, flinching at the smack he expected (and admittedly, deserved).

She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Oi, this was just the first offense. Next time I won’t be so easy on you.” She lifted her head off of his shoulder and smiled innocently at him.

"Sounds fun," he replied, quirking an eyebrow.  He gazed at her affectionately, a peaceful smile spreading over his face. 

"I’ll try not to make a habit of it," she promised softly, "fun as it was." She nuzzled lightly into his neck, her eyes closing for a moment. "I’m rather afraid you’re stuck with me."


	26. (exactly) one year ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This para was written January 28, 2014 -- exactly one year to the date that A Brief Encounter aired. Since we had never actually fleshed out what happened following the proposal, merely alluded to it, we decided to go back in time. The result? So much pain.

Despite the day being meant to be all about Penny and Charles’ vow renewals, Miranda found that once again, all eyes were (unfortunately) on her. Another spectacle, another awkward situation, and this was something she’d never experienced before — not one, but two proposals? One from the man she’d been in love with for almost fifteen years but wouldn’t know the concept of commitment if it, well, proposed to him, and the other, a man who loved her and wasn’t afraid to show it, but for who her own feelings were completely lukewarm. 

So she did what any rational, mature, emotionally stable person would do in her situation.

She ran.

Pushing back through the crowd, she shoved someone out of the way as gently as she could, ignoring her mother’s protests, ignoring all of them. She didn’t owe them an explanation for why she was running — she hadn’t owed them an explanation for why she’d left in the first place, or why she had come back. 

She ran out of the restaurant and didn’t stop until she was slamming the door to her flat closed behind her, tears already pricking at her eyes. It had been a mistake to come back. Despite all of the lovely things Gary had said to her, he really hadn’t changed at all. The only thing that had prompted him to man up was because she had almost left.

She couldn’t rely on a crisis to push him every time something needed to be said. She couldn’t wait.

Shoving a hand into her pocket, she pulled out the crumpled train ticket and then looked over at her cases sitting by the door. There was only one choice to make.

Gary knew it was a mistake the second the words spilled out of his mouth.  He wanted to rewind the last few seconds and have a do-over - but what else could he have done?  Michael would still be there, offering Miranda everything that he couldn’t.

She was out the door before he had time to react, but once he could, he chased after her at full speed, trying to ignore the stunned expressions of nearly everyone they knew. 

As he reached her door, all the adrenaline drained out of him, his hand frozen in midair before knocking.  He had no idea what he could say to her now, and he almost turned around and went home.  It was only his need to see her that made him knock on the door.

She knew from the knock it was him; slipping the ticket back into her pocket she hastily wiped the tears off of her cheeks and straightened up before wrenching the door open with a glare.

"What. Was. That." Each word was ground out painfully as she grabbed his arm and yanked him into the flat. "Did that actually happen? Are you  _asking me to marry you_?” Even as she said it, knowing the answer, it was so completely ridiculous and so infuriating that she was almost laughing with frustration.

His mouth gaped open at her question.  He hadn’t expected her to ask for clarification.  ”No,” he said, defeated, “I’m not.” Reaching for her hands, he pleaded, “I do want to be with you, though.  I just panicked.”

Their fingertips brushed together for just a fraction of a second before she pulled her hands away and folded her arms, unsatisfied with his answer. “Why would… what made you even think I would consider his proposal? I broke up with the poor man because  _I’m in love with you!_ And you should know better than anyone that I’m not into marriage, anyway! We had this exact conversation three years ago!”

"I wasn’t thinking!" he exclaimed.  His voice was becoming strained with fear and frustration.  All the decisions he’d made recently were resting on his shoulders, and he felt crushed under the weight of them.  "Please, can we just forget this ever happened!"

The anger that had been slowly simmering under the surface ever since he’d dropped down onto one knee was quickly boiling over, and as much as she was frightened by what would happen, she knew it had to, or else they’d end up making the same mistakes all over again.

"But this is what  _always_  happens, Gary! The only reason you ever seem to man up is when you’re under duress! Finding me at the train station this morning — all of that was because you thought I was leaving. You only proposed because you thought I would actually say ‘yes’ to Mike. It’s always been like that with you.” The tears of frustration and hurt were now beginning to slide down her cheeks. She angrily ignored them.

"I don’t do it on purpose," he said defensively.   He stepped towards her, wanting to close the distance that was growing between them.  "Just because I only act when it matters… it doesn’t mean I feel it any less."

"When it matters?" she echoed, slightly incredulous. "Sorry, are you trying to say nothing else ever has?" She wanted to move away, to run away again, but her legs wouldn’t move in her shock at what he’d just said. "Just once I wish you’d come after me because you want me, and not because you think I’ll leave if you don’t!" she said in frustration.

"No, no, I meant… when it was urgent," he said quickly, trying to repair the damage.  His hands were shaking now, and his stomach was churning.  Of all the times to trip over his words.  He took another step towards her, so they were standing almost toe-to-toe.  "I do want you," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "but I don’t know how to prove it to you when you keep leaving."  

They both knew how he could prove it — all he had to do was say those three little words that were a week overdue. But he couldn’t, and she’d promised him she would be patient. But with all of this that had unfolded, she wasn’t sure she could keep that promise. “All I wanted was to know you feel the same way about me,” she said quietly, not looking him in the eye. “You couldn’t tell me, but then you proposed, and I—” She shook her head. “I actually believed you for a moment. Not that I _wanted_  you to do it, but the meaning behind it…”

He wanted to tell her how he felt, he wanted to give her the kind of reassurance she deserved.  But the idea was still too terrifying to even consider.  Even with so much on the line.  

He couldn’t just stand there, though, not without doing  _something_ to convince her of how he felt.  Throwing all caution to the wind, he closed the short distance between them and kissed her, brushing his fingertips over her arms as he did.

She was surprised when he kissed her, and even more surprised when she found herself responding. Even though she was still hurt and angry and  _confused_ , the novelty of simply being able to just  _kiss_  him had yet to wear off.

But this was the opposite of their kisses from that morning; as her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, she forced herself to swallow the sob lodged in her throat and instead poured her frustration, her desperation, her love into it. Because despite everything, she was so in love with him still, and she wasn’t sure when she’d have another chance to be with him like this. 

He was fully expecting her to shove him away.  When she didn’t, when she kissed him back, he almost smiled against her lips.  Almost.   He curled his arms around her back, pulling their bodies tight together.  Though her tears were dampening his cheeks, he could also feel the love that was coursing through their kiss.  

They might be able to get through this.

He held her tight against him and for a moment she was swept back to that morning, when she’d flung her arms around his neck and had never wanted to let go. She’d been so happy, so elated, so relieved. She wanted that feeling back again, but she knew she couldn’t have it. Not yet. There was a lot that needed to be said before they could go back to how they’d been.

Which was why before it could go any further, she pressed her hands flat against his chest and slowly drew back, her lips immediately regretting the loss of contact and her heart breaking as her eyes slowly fluttered open completely.

"I can’t do this anymore."

The brief moment of hope he had allowed himself slipped away as quickly as it had appeared.  His fingers were still lightly touching her waist; he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her completely.  ”You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?” He spoke quietly, his voice deflated and defeated.

"Yes. Or no. I don’t know." She sighed quietly and tentatively raised her head to look him in the eye. "I know everyone’s back at the restaurant wondering who I would choose, but I think, this time, I need to choose myself. Figure out what I really want. And I can’t do that being near you." Her voice grew softer with that last word, her hands still resting lightly on his chest, his heartbeat under her palm.

He stepped backwards, letting her hands drop from him.  ”Right.”  He swallowed hard, breaking their eye contact.  ”I guess I should go, then.”

She could feel herself starting to get choked up again; the thought of actually leaving wasn’t something she exactly looked forward to. But she had to do this; and if he chose to go and find her someday, it needed to be be his choice and not hers.

"Don’t think for a second that I’m not going to miss you every day," she managed to get out, her vision soft with the blur of unshed tears.

He didn’t know how to respond; all he could think of was  _don’t leave, please don’t leave._ He didn’t think he could bear losing her again, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice.  ”I’ll just… go.” he repeated, mostly to himself as he headed towards the door.  He wanted to look back at her, wanted to find some sign in her expression that this would all work out, but he couldn’t.  With a heavy sigh, he slipped quickly and quietly out.

When the door closed behind him, she let her shoulders drop in defeat and closed her eyes. There was a chance she’d just lost any chance she’d ever have for them to give it a proper go… but there was also a chance that maybe, this time, he’d find her because he loved her and not because she was gone. 

The ticket was still in her pocket. Her cases were still packed. By the time everyone came looking for her, she’d already be gone.

With newfound determination to finally escape the chaos that her life had become, she grabbed her things and headed out the door.


End file.
